


In between York Way and Emirates Stadium

by ccshbh



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Banter, F/M, Fluff, I don’t like angst, I finally did it, I've been wanting to write this for forever, Jughead is smitten, betty is a badass, cuteness, football au, goalkeeper!Jughead, probably no angst, probably smut later, public relationship, reporter!Betty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-07-30 10:04:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 35,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20095507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ccshbh/pseuds/ccshbh
Summary: The sports reporter/(european) football player AU based in London that I wanted to write for forever.Paru, esto va por ti.





	1. Chapter 1

„Betty!“ Tom, her Editor in Chief seems nearly frantic, when he reaches her desk in the shared office space. “Thank god, you are here.”

Betty looks up from the article she is proofreading for another colleague and gives him a questioning look. “Saturday is the busiest news day in sports. And I know my delicate, ponytailed appearance doesn’t suggest it, but I’m a sports reporter. So, while I’m glad you are obviously happy to see me, I don’t know why you seem so surprised that I’m here.”

Tom scoffs and leans against her desk, catching his breath. “Save your sass, Cooper. Peter’s wife just went into labor and he can’t make it. So, you are taking over the life coverage for the website. Get all your stuff together and go. Game starts in two hours.”

This catches Betty off guard. She has been working at the Guardian’s sports department for three months now, taking the leap over the big pond just one year after college.

If she is being honest, she had been glad to get out of the United States (and as far away as possible from her mother, she supposes). While the political landscape sometimes seems as crazy as the one in the US (lately even producing a prime minister, that bears a truly terrifying similarity to the US president. Both, in behavior and looks.) everything else in the UK seemed more orderly, cleaner. London is a beautiful city and living in a small apartment in Notting Hill, feels like something straight out of one of her favorite movies. She is yet to meet her own personal William Thacker, but without her mother and her ever lasting questions about her dating life close by, finding her Prince Charming seems way less of a task.

Doing live coverage for a Premier League game though, even if it is not a high stake one seems like an incredibly large task. And she is not sure if she can live up to it. When she voices that concern to Tom, however, he brushes her off with a wave of his hand.

“Bollocks. There is a reason we hired you here and it is because you are good. You can manage that. Now get your stuff together and go.”

So, 15 minutes and a mad scramble for her recording device, phone, press card, laptop and coat later, Betty is sitting in the back of a cab headed to Emirates Stadium, trying to reign in her breathing.

“You can do this. This is the kind of opportunity you don’t get every day. You won’t mess it up, despite what some parts of your weirdly wired brain want to tell you. You can do this.”

She repeats the last sentence to herself all the 1,9 miles from York Way to Emirates Stadium, where she tosses the cabby a ridiculous amount of money (it’s not like she cares, the paper is paying for it anyway) and starts her search for the press entrance. She has never been here, because up until now, she had only covered the Aston Villa and Tottenham press conferences, so despite Tom’s very precise directions, it takes her a little longer than she’d like to find the seats assigned to The Guardian.

When she shows her press card to the security guard he gives her a look that she has known ever since she was 12 and had tried to engage in a conversation about an NBA game with some boys from her class. Nobody ever expects her to be interested in sports. Cupcakes, unicorns and Make-Up? Yes. 22 sweaty men chasing after a ball for 90 minutes? Not so much.

The security guard even has the nerve to ask her where Peter is and if she wasn’t so nervous, Betty would definitely give him a piece of her mind. For now, though, she settles on a murmured: “His wife went into labor” and then passes him as fast as possible.

She spends the rest of the time setting up her laptop, preparing the live feed and analyzing the line ups. There is nothing out of the ordinary, both teams deploying the usual players. She can basically see West Ham throwing everything into defense, before the game even begins, which never really makes for an interesting 90 minutes. Arsenal will probably do their best to run up against the wall, break through once or twice, mark and then leave victorious. Its how this kind of games always go down.

…

90 minutes later, Betty (and most of her colleagues, from what she had picked up from their conversations before the game) is proven completely wrong. Arsenal is barely holding on to their 1:0 lead and she has almost no time to update the news feed, before the next thing is happening. So, when the referee declares a penalty for West Ham in minute 88, she is almost glad about it, because the few seconds that it takes West Ham’s forward to position the ball are time for her to catch somewhat of a breath.

Her eyes flicker from the forward to Arsenal’s goalkeeper. She’s found that focusing on the goalkeeper rather than the forward in a penalty, always proofs more fruitful. In the few seconds the ball is in the air, you can usually determine by the goalkeeper’s facial expression if the ball goes in or not. They always seem to know milliseconds before anyone else does. It takes her about half a second to realize that this penalty is not going to turn into a goal. The look of determination Arsenal’s goalkeeper has on his face, the way his whole body tenses when West Ham’s forward takes the run-up, lets her know that he is going to stop the ball just a few seconds before it happens.

Most of the stadium erupts into cheers, when the ball bumps from his gloves to the side of the field and into the out. Betty, meanwhile, updates her news feed and smiles a little at the ridiculous name of the man that just saved his team’s victory.

_ Jughead Jones._


	2. Chapter 2

Jughead is tired. Very tired. All he wants to do is sleep. Instead he is sitting in this press conference, fantasizing about the fact that he could very well be on his way home by now. If someone would have told him that all this media circus came with doing his job as a goalkeeper, he'd stick to Plan B and just become a gang leader.

Even after 4 years, he is still getting used to this part of the job. All the media attention, all the fuzz around professional sports, it’s something he’d expected when he came to Arsenal from the United States, but no one can ever prepare you for the real thing. Because the fact of the matter is: it is exhausting.

If Jughead is being honest, he also doesn’t quite get it. He did his job. He did what he is supposed to do on that field. He’s stopped penalties before. He's done this since he was seven years old, when the only person cheering him on had been his mom, with his baby sister napping next to her in her stroller.

But then, he is also being paid a ridiculously large amount of money for said job, so answering these questions is probably the least he can do.

Annie, the club’s spokeswoman, just announced that he will only be answering two more questions and Jughead can almost see himself falling into his bed and sleeping in the next day (practice free days after games rock!), when she speaks up.

“Betty Cooper, for the Guardian.”

Her American accent snaps Jughead back to attention. Its been a while since he heard one around here. If he is being honest, he can maybe remember three people with an American accent since he moved to London. He has to crane his neck a little to see her properly, but when he does, lord, he almost forgets to listen to her question.

She is beautiful. A classic kind of beautiful. Blond hair, green eyes, the faintest hint of a smile on her lips when she asks the question. The way she sits straight up in her chair suggests a kind of confidence he is not used to see in the reporters that are usually attending these press conferences. It’s the confidence of a fighter. It’s got him intrigued.

…

“Hey, that reporter for the Guardian today, is she new?” he asks Annie, when they are back on their way to the locker rooms so he can pick up his stuff. The question is supposed to sound casual, but it comes out more keen than he’d meant for it.

Annie quirks an eyebrow at him. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t.” he shrugs his shoulders and wants to kick himself for how much his tone of voice is suggesting that he does care. “I’m just curious. There are not too many Americans around here, especially not in Premier League coverage.”

“I suppose she had to fill in. Their usual reporter couldn’t make it. From what I heard, his wife went into labor.”

“Oh, okay.” Jughead is not gonna lie. He’d hoped he’d get to see her again at another press conference. Maybe getting to talk to her. But that is probably not going to happen, if she was just there to fill in.

“Jughead.” Annie’s sharp tone snaps him back to reality.

“Yes?”

“I want no funny business there, do you understand?” She points a perfectly manicured finger at him. “I’ve got enough to do without one of our players chasing after a journalist.”

“Excuse me, what?” he is actually offended by the suggestion Annie is making. But he is also a little bit terrified of her, which is why he adjusts his tone and adds: “When have I ever given you that kind of trouble?”

Annie drops her hand and sighs: “Right. But I also don’t want you to start giving me that kind of trouble. And now get out of here and get some rest. You’ve earned it.”

With that, she shoos him away and Jughead smiles to himself.

…

He means to get that rest, he really does, but by now, its almost 1 a.m. in the morning and he can’t sleep. It bothers him, because usually he sleeps like a baby after a won game, but tonight is different. Every time he closes his eyes, he sees that Guardian reporter, the way she was sitting in that chair, the confidence she radiated, the forest green of her eyes.

He is about 0.5 seconds away from going insane.

Sometimes he wishes he'd had the calmness of his loyal, English sheepdog Hotdog, that is snoozing away on the foot of his bed. Sighing he grabs his phone and stares at the black screen for a minute.

Nah, he can’t just google her, that would be creepy, right? Then on the other hand, googling her might be the only chance he has to find out more about her.

“Fuck it.” he mumbles and unlocks the phone.

…

All his search comes up with, is her staff page at the Guardian’s website, an article about how she graduated _summa cum laude_ from Columbia (“Smart and beautiful” he thinks.) and an Instagram account. He gets stuck with the latter.

She seems to update fairly regularly, posting about mainly three things: a slightly overweight, ginger cat, named Caramel, (Something he can’t blame her for. If he’d had an Instagram account, it would probably be all about Hotdog too. Annie has been on his case about getting an account for months. She thinks it is necessary for someone in the public eye, Jughead thinks it would only make his life more complicated than it already is.), the books she reads and, probably his favorite pictures, the food she is cooking.

So now its “beautiful, smart and can cook delicious food.” Great.

He also figures that she hasn’t been living in London for too long. There are more or less recent pictures of the tourist attractions, all places he’d also visited in his first few weeks here. Buckingham Palace, London Tower, Piccadilly, Covent Garden, Big Ben, Westminster Abbey and Downing Street. The detective novel fan inside him also does a little jump of joy when he finds a photo of her posing in front of 221b Baker Street.

By that point, he is three months deep into her Instagram account and starting to feel like a creep, so he places his phone back on his nightstand and pulls the covers higher up his body. That wakes Hotdog and he pads over, to curl against Jughead’s side.

That night, Jughead falls asleep with the distant thought, that he might have to cause Annie "that kind of trouble" now.


	3. Chapter 3

Betty likes Sunday mornings. She still has to go to work, because that is just how her job works, but she gets to start an hour later, meaning she can stop at the little bakery around the corner from her apartment to pick up some tea and breakfast.

It’s an unusually sunny day and she’s gotten out of the house a little earlier than she meant to, so she takes a longer route along Ladbroke Grove towards Ladbroke Station after she bought herself some tea-to-go and a croissant. There is music playing in her headphones and she feels genuinely good and motivated until something suddenly runs between her legs and makes her topple over. Her headphones slip from her head and her tea takes of flying (thankfully in a different direction than she does). She can feel her hands bruise when she tries to save herself from permanent head damage and the bag with her croissant slides down the pavement.

For a moment, she just sits there, her head spinning around in search for whatever it was that attacked her. There, about 5 feet away from her, stands an English sheepdog, looking at her rather surprised as if asking: “Hey there, what have you been doing here, standing in the way of my morning run?” Its actually kind of cute and Betty can’t bring herself to be mad.

She gets up gingerly and dusts herself off before approaching the sheepdog.

“Well, hello there boy. Are you lost?”

The dog lifts his head towards her, clearly searching for a padding and she crouches down to scratch him behind his ears and check his collar. He seems to have an owner, although she can’t see anyone around. His tag says that his name is Hotdog and she smiles a little at that. It’s a rather ridiculous name, but she appreciates the pun.

“So, Hotdog. What are we going to do with you huh? Where is your owner?”

“Hotdog!”

Both, Betty’s and Hotdog’s heads snap up when they hear a male voice behind them. She can see a tall man jogging around the corner, a leash in his right hand. As he comes closer, she recognizes him, despite the grey beanie on his head, that is kind of inappropriate for the warm weather. It’s Jughead Jones.

He comes to a stop next to them and she can see something pass across his face. First, she thinks is confusion, about what she is doing with his dog, but then she realizes that it is something different: recognition. That stuns her for a moment. Where would Jughead Jones recognize her from?

His eyes flicker in between her and the tea-to-go cup that is still on the ground and his expression changes. This time it looks more like embarrassment.

“Oh my god, please tell me he didn’t run you over. I’m so sorry.” he is nearly stumbling over his words, while simultaneously trying to put Hotdog on his leash. Its rather adorable.

“It’s fine, it really is. I didn’t watch where I was going either.” she says in a tone that she hopes will make him feel better.

“No, no it really isn’t.” He finally manages to get the leash back on Hotdog. “This always happens when I let him of the leash, I should really know by now. Are you okay? You didn’t hurt yourself, right?”

Betty shakes her head, although her hands are starting to ache slightly. “I’m okay, really.”

Jughead still doesn’t seem to believe her, because he shakes his head slightly. “Let me at least buy you a new cup of tea and whatever food you got. As an apology for my dog assaulting you.”

Her first thought is to decline his offer, because she has to get going to make it to work on time and this is really not a big deal. But he seems so geniuenly worried that she just can't.  


“Okay.” she agrees, and he smiles in relief. It’s a pretty smile.

…

They leave the bakery again about 10 minutes later with a new cup of tea and a croissant for Betty and an astonishing amount of food and a tall black coffee for Jughead. They’ve kept their conversation quite casual, mostly talking about Hotdog and his tendencies to break free and run. 

Betty would be lying if she’d said that she wasn’t freaked out a little bit about the fact that she is talking to Jughead Jones, but she is deliberately trying to act like she has no idea who he is. He probably gets recognized enough and she doesn't want to ruin his Sunday morning.

Besides that, he seems to be a nice guy, pretty down to earth. Polite.

She is about to thank him for buying her breakfast, when he says: “I’m sorry if this is weird and you can totally choose not to answer, but... do you happen to work at the Guardian?”

So, she wasn’t wrong earlier. That was recognition on his face. 

“Yes, I do.” she answers.

“I’m sorry this is weird, I know. You where at the press conference after the game last night, right? I... I was just surprised to see another American around here. That doesn’t happen too often.”

Betty smiles at that again: “Yeah, there are not a lot of us in Premier League coverage.”

Pulling her phone out of her pocket she checks the time. She really has to run by now to make it: “Listen, I’m really sorry, but I’m going to be late for work. Thank you for the breakfast and you...” she crouches down to pad Hotdog again. “need to stop running over people, because your owner is way too nice and if you go on running over people he will have to buy breakfast for the whole of London at some point."

The smile on Jughead’s face is wide when she gets up again and offers her hand to him.

He doesn’t take it. Instead he says: “Well uhm, if you want, I can drive you to work. I live close by and it would probably be faster than with the Tube. Only if you want to of course.”

Betty checks the time again, realizing that another (crucial) five minutes have passed and that he might be right.

She looks up at him again, feeling her own lips curl into a smile: “Okay, lets go then.”


	4. Chapter 4

Jughead now has another attribute to add to the list of things he knows about Betty Cooper: She is smart, beautiful, an amazing cook and (his newest addition) funny.

Somewhere between leaving Notting Hill and arriving at York Way, their conversation had turned to her chief editor, Tom. Jughead knows him, because there are only two ways you handle media after being exposed to them during a certain period of time: You either avoid them completely or you start making friends with the decent people. Tom is one of the decent people.

But he also has a particular tone of voice when he gets angry and Betty is so good at imitating it, that by the time they arrive in front of the Guardian building, Jughead is laughing so hard, he can barely breath.

He looks over at Betty, who is still chuckling too but also already righting herself to get out of the car.

A part of him doesn’t want her to. It wants to spend the whole day with her. The other (more reasonable one) knows that she a) has to work and b) she has known him for maybe an hour and she probably wouldn’t want to spend more time with him anyway.

Betty turns towards him and gives him a brilliant smile. “Thank you for giving me a lift.”

“My pleasure.” Jughead answers.

She opens the door and is about to set her left foot down on the pavement when he hears himself say: “Betty?”

She turns around again: “Yes?”

_Ask her out._

“If you… do you maybe… want to hang out some time? You know, when everything gets too British around here and you need someone to call the things by their proper names?”

_Coward._

He can see her hesitate for her second, making him want to kick himself. Obviously, she doesn’t want to hang out with him. What even made him think that this beautiful woman his dog ran over, who has known him for the shortest amount of time would ever want to…

“That sounds nice.”

_Wait what?_

Before he can even do as much as digest what she said, she has produced a notebook, ripped out a piece of paper and is scribbling something onto it. She hands it to him and smiles once more.

“I don’t know a lot of people yet. It would be nice to have someone to hang out with.”

With that she is out of the car, before he can utter another word.

…

Another 10 minutes later, Jughead reenters his apartment and drops down on his couch. There is a stupidly large grin on his face, and he is pretty sure, his 16-year-old-self would think he is being rather pathetic. Smiling at his ceiling like an idiot because of a girl. But he’s got Betty Cooper’s number scribbled on a piece of paper in his pocket and he really couldn’t care less about anything else.

Hotdog jumps up on the couch next to him and Jughead grins: “Looks like this time I have to thank you for being a hellhound, huh buddy?”

…

It takes Jughead exactly 10 hours to work up the nerve to text her. He writes and rewrites the message about 150 times and then settles on:

_“Hi, its Jughead _😊_”_

The writer inside him is cringing hard rereading his message and he is about five seconds away from just locking his phone and melting into the ground, when three little dots appear in the lower right corner of his screen. She is actually responding. She is responding to his pathetic attempt of starting a conversation.

“_Hi there _😊. _What have you been up to all day?_”

…

During the next few days, Jughead is practically glued to his phone. His teammates are starting to make fun of him, some even flat out asking if “a girl” caused the sudden rise in his texting habits.

Jughead just scoffs and shoots them a nasty look. Betty isn’t just “a girl”. She is… well, he doesn’t even know who or what she is to him yet, so he surely can’t explain it to anyone else.

Unfortunately, they both have busy schedules, which means that neither did Jughead have time to think the whole thing through properly, nor was he able to spend any time with Betty.

But tonight, just as he is collapsing down on his bed after a particularly grueling day of practice (They made him go to the gym. He hates the gym), another message of hers comes through.

_“I’ve been craving Mac n’ Cheese ever since you mentioned it the other day, so I went to the store after work and got everything ready. I thought you and Hotdog might want to come over and share with me?”_

He doesn’t even have to think twice.

…

15 minutes later, Jughead arrives at Betty’s doorstep, with a bouquet of flowers in his hands, that he picked up at a little shop along the way. He was about halfway from his flat, when he realized, that he probably ought to get her something if she is doing all the cooking. There was a bouquet of daisies that immediately caught his eye and made him think of Betty.

By the time he reaches her building, his hands are sweaty and he isn’t sure if it was really the best idea to spend a whole evening alone with the woman he hadn’t stopped thinking about in days. Because truth be told, he is naturally awkward and pretty sure that the nervousness that keeps bubbling in his stomach won’t be very helpful with that either. But before he can give it another thought and make a run for it, Hotdog tugs at the leash particularly hard, a move that makes Jughead almost topple over.

“Hotdog, what the…?” rising his head, Jughead spots the disturbance that caused Hotdog to almost slip from his grip again. The tale of a ginger cat is disappearing into the entrance of the house, along with an elderly lady, that just seems to be carrying her shopping home. It Betty’s cat.

Jughead takes a deep breath and looks up towards the windows of the 3rd floor, where Betty supposedly lives.

“You can do this Jones, come on.” he whispers to himself, earning a strange look from a passer-by.

Hotdog tugs at the leash again, impatiently looking up at his owner.

“Yeah, yeah, relax, we are going in.” Jughead mutters and approaches the door.

The elderly lady and the cat have vanished by now, so Jughead buzzes Betty’s name and almost immediately, her voice comes through the speaker.

“Come right up, it’s the second door on the left.”

In an attempt to calm his nerves, Jughead forgoes the elevator in favor of the stairs, but by the time he reaches number 304, he is about ready to just run off again. As if on queue Betty opens the door with a smile so warm, it makes him curse himself for even entertaining the thought of missing out on this.

“Hi Jug. Come in.”

Jughead steps inside, holding up the daises a little awkwardly. “These are for you. I thought, you know, with all the cooking you are doing.”

Betty bites her lip and smiles at him again. “Jughead, you shouldn’t have.”

He just shrugs. “It seemed like the right thing to do.”

“They are beautiful. Thank you.”

He follows her into the kitchen and the scent that hits his nose almost makes him groan.

“God, I missed the smell of home-made Mac n’ Cheese.” he says and Betty giggles.

“I perfectionated my Mac n’ Cheese skills during College. If you want a drink, there is something in the fridge. I’m afraid I only have soda though.”

“No problem. I don’t drink anyway. I’m all happy with a can of coke.”

“Ah, yeah, I should have guessed that. Its probably not to helpful with your training schedule, right?”

Its an innocent question, one he answered a thousand times, but right now, as he is opening Betty’s fridge, the memory hits Jughead hard. For a moment, he is right back there in a shitty trailer on the outskirts of Toledo, his dad passed out on the couch, while his mom is tiding up all the bottles and cans on the living room floor.

“Jug?” Betty’s voice brings him back to the present. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. And, no, its not because of the training schedule, its more of a… uhm… lets call it a family thing.”

He can see her face drop for a minute, but she catches herself immediately and claps her hands with another radiant smile. He has never been more thankful to anyone.

…

Hours later, they are sitting outside on Betty’s balcony, both of them with a bowl of ice cream on their lap and Hotdog calmly snoozing at their feet.

“You really broke his nose?” Betty asks in a fit of giggles.

“He stood right in the way when I was jumping up to catch the ball. I called out. Not my fault my arm collided with his nose after that. And in my defense, 14-year-old me felt terribly sorry about it.”

They both fall quiet for a moment until Betty says: “I played too; you know?”

Jughead smiles at that. Of course she did.

“Let me guess. Center forward?”

Betty turns her head and quirks an eyebrow at him. “How did you know?”

“I don’t know. You just look like natural top scorer material.”

She laughs at that and gives him a shove. “I actually was. My sophomore, junior and senior year.”

“Hah, I knew it. Why didn’t you go on with it?”

“You know how it is for women, Jughead. Its not a stable career. And writing was always a passion of mine. So, I just… combined them.”

Jughead sighs. She is right about that. The women’s team doesn’t even get a fraction of the ridiculously high paycheck he receives every month.

“Yeah, I know. It’s insulting if you ask me. Plus, I bet you would have made a formidable captain for the women’s national team.”

She shoots him a smile at that, but this time its a softer one. “Thank you.”

There is another silence and he gets up, placing the bowl on a little table next to him.

“Well, its getting late, I think I should go.” _He doesn’t really want to._

“Yeah.” Betty answers and gets up too, her eyes flicking down to Hotdog. “Maybe you should get this one home too.” _As if the dog gave a shit where he slept._

“Mhh, I should.” his feet shuffle closer to her on their own accord.

“I bet you have an early start tomorrow.” _Not at all._

Suddenly, Betty is only a few inches away from him and he knows that if he bent down just a little, he’d be able to kiss her. And god, does he want to.

“You probably do too.” _Please say you don’t._

“I do” she breaths and then her lips are on his and Jughead forgets everything around him, except for her. The way her lips feel on his, the way her hands tangle in his hair and her tongue sweeps among his bottom lip.

Before he knows it, he has her pressed up to the railing of the balcony, her body is rubbing against his and he is feeling everything at once. And then, from one moment to the other, it’s too much.

“Betty.” he gasps against her mouth. “Betty… I…”

She pulls back a fraction and looks up at him, eyes wide, hair already a little disheveled. Everything inside him is screaming not to be an idiot and just keep on kissing her, but he can’t. He can’t rush this.

He drops his forehead to hers and takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I just… I can’t rush this. It wouldn’t be fair to you. I really want to spend more time with you and I’m pretty sure I can’t do that without kissing you, but I need you to understand that all of this, my job, all the media stuff… it’s so freaking complicated. I can’t do this without you knowing every little detail about it and then making the decision if this is truly what you want to do. I know this sounds stupid, but…”

“Jug.” she interrupts him firmly and takes his face into both her hands to gently force him to look at her. “If you want to go slow with this, that is what we are going to do. I just want to spend more time with you. This can be whatever you want it to be.”

He nods, being extremely grateful to her for the second time tonight. “Thank you.”


	5. Chapter 5

Betty has to wait until the following Monday to see Jughead again. She is incredibly busy during the weekend, with Leicester earning a surprise victory against Chelsea at Stamford Bridge and a ridiculously early in the season Manchester derby on Saturday. The post-game reporting takes up almost her entire Sunday plus the added coverage of the Arsenal game that night in Southampton.

She is watching the game in the office among her colleagues, trying not to not let anyone notice the way she jumps a little more in her chair every time Jughead makes a good save.

She’s decided to leave whatever she and Jughead have, between them for now. Apart from the fact that it is probably not the best idea to tell anyone at her workplace, that she kind of, sorta, may have kissed Jughead Jones, a man she should, by her job description, be impartial about, she isn’t really sure in which direction they are going right now. She understands his concerns about the media. She does. Hell, she is part of it (although, if she is being honest, she is glad that she is on the better side of things). She knows about all the scrutinizing, about how exhausting it can be to be under constant observation. She’s seen it. But she’s never been the centre of it, and she isn’t really sure if she wants to be.

Despite that, she is certain that she wants to spend some more time with Jughead. She wants to figure this out, no matter what it is.

Meanwhile, she’ll try to focus on the game and do her job right. Something she is rather successful with. Yes, her thoughts do wander back to the moment she tangled her hands in his hair on her balcony, when on screen, Jughead does that move of shaking his unruly front lock out of his eyes just before a direct free kick, but she also definitely notices the way the ball slips from his hands about ten minutes later and nearly ends in a goal for Southampton. Luckily for Jughead, one of his defenders is right at the goal line and manages to kick the ball back out to the field before it lands in the net.

Other than that, the game is rather dull and ends in a fair draw. Although she has really known Jughead for about a week, she can see that he is angry when he walks off the pitch. Arsenal is not supposed to draw in Southampton. They've lost some valuable points there and he has told her, that sometimes he gets a little bit too frustrated when a ball slips his hands.

Betty decides to leave him alone for the night, except for the goodnight text she’d feel weird not sending by now. He replies some 20 minutes after, with a simple: “Night Betts.” accompanied by a heart emoji that she is pretty sure he had to search for first.

It still makes her smile.

…

Monday and Tuesday are Betty’s free days, so the next morning she sleeps in (which for her means, she gets up at 9 instead of 7) and meets with Tessa, her only other female colleague, for brunch.

Tessa is a hard exterior, soft core native Londoner, with a green pixie cut, an undying love for tattoos and, weirdly enough, baking. It was her that introduced Betty to the little bakery around the corner from her flat and the moment the first taste of their strawberry cupcake hit her tongue; Betty had decided that she’d made a new friend.

They are in the middle of an argument about why a on earth anyone would ever call a garbage can a wheelie bin, when a text from Jughead comes through.

_“Morning beautiful”_

Betty can feel herself blush a little at the term of endearment, but politely waits until Tessa gets up to use the bathroom, to reply to him.

_“Morning, handsome. Although I dare to say that the term morning is a little bit out of place here. It’s almost noon.”_

_“The noon of a day I don’t have to go to a training session. Nothing is getting me out of this bed anytime soon. I mean, I even have Hotdog to cuddle with, what more do I want _ _😉_ _?”_

That message is accompanied by a picture of Hotdog and him in Jughead’s bed, that nearly makes Betty choke on her orange juice. There is a distinct lack of shirt, ruffled hair and a sleepy, but gorgeous smile. If she hadn’t thought about it before, she definitely does think now that Jughead Jones is probably one of the most handsome men she has ever seen. Actually, who is she kidding? He is just flat out, unbelievably hot.

She stares at the screen, until suddenly, Tessa snaps her fingers in front of her face. Betty hadn’t even noticed she’d come back.

“Earth to Betty! I asked you a question.”

“Oh yeah, I’m so sorry, I was just distracted for a moment.”

“Uhu, I could see that. Who’s the lucky lad? Someone I know?”

Betty knows she is not a very convincing liar, but she tries anyway: “Who said I’m texting with a guy?”

“Oh, come on. I just saw you staring at your phone like you wanted to devour it. So, unless you have a very strange relationship with your phone, it’s probably some bloke.”

“He is not some bloke.” Betty hears herself say, before she can stop the words coming out of her mouth. She sighs in resignation. “Okay, fine. Yes, it’s a guy. But its all still very new and I haven’t really figured out what we are so… I’d really prefer to keep it to myself. But if it ever amounts to anything, you’ll be the first to know, I promise.”

Tessa laughs at that. “I can live with that for now.”

…

Betty is about to respond to Jughead’s text after hugging Tessa goodbye some 30 minutes later, when another one comes in.

_“I could be persuaded to leave my bed though.”_

Betty smiles to herself. She has an inkling where this going.

_“Oh really? How so?”_

_“Have dinner with me?”_

…

Jughead is at her door step at 6:30 p. m. sharp that evening. He didn’t tell her where they were going, so Betty is relieved to see that he hasn’t dressed up too much, when she opens the door. She has spent a good part of her afternoon picking out an outfit for tonight and his secrecy about the kind of restaurant they were going to had nearly driven her crazy. But he is dressed rather casually, albeit the navy-blue dress shirt and black jeans are a little bit of a venture from the flannel he’d worn the last two times they’ve meet.

(And on all the pictures she’s seen of him on Google, but she is not going to tell him about that.)

He smiles at her and she waves her hand for him to come in.

“It will just be a second, I have to get my shoes on. I can go with flats right? We are not going anywhere that requiers high heels, do we?”

“Betty?”

“Yes?” she asks and turns on the spot, just in time to see him close the distance between them, take her face in his hands and kiss her. Its not as intense as their first kiss outside on her balcony, but it is sweet and lingering and she thinks that she could really get used to this. Could get used to kissing him.

“God, I’ve missed you.” he mumbles when he pulls back.

Still holding her face he adds: “Also, flats are totally okay.”

She laughs at that and pecks his lips quickly. “I’ve missed you too.”

…

“Seriously, where do you put it?” Betty asks, astonished while watching Jughead basically inhaling the rest of her Chickpea Churry, after eating a ridiculously large plate of Malai Kafta himself.

“I’m a medical miracle, Betts” he quips and smirks at her over the table.

“Any nutritionist’s nightmare, you mean.”

He lets out a chuckle. “Oh yeah, we have two of them at the club and both of them hate me. Do you want anything for dessert?”

“God no. I feel like I’m about to burst. But you were right, this really is the best Indian food I ever had. And its such a cute, little place.” Betty says and looks around the Indian restaurant he brought her to.

When they’d arrived, she’d nearly laughed out loud, just because of the pure giddiness she felt at the fact that he’d remembered. They had talked about this, after Hotdog run her over, when he was driving her to work. She’d told him all about the exploration she had done in the first weeks of living in London, that although she had searched everywhere and there was an abundance of them, she still hadn’t found a place that served proper Indian food. And now, here they are, only 20 minutes walking distance from her flat in this quiet and cozy place. She has no idea how she missed it.

“Let’s go for a walk then.” Jughead says and signals to the waiter.

“Jug, you don’t have to…” Betty starts, but he puts one hand over hers on the clean, white tablecloth and squeezes it gently.

“Betts, you’ve cooked for me the other night, so please let me get this one, okay?”

Betty nods: “Okay. But if there is going to be more of this, I’m getting the next one.”

Jughead grins: “Duly noted.”

…

They leave the restaurant a few minutes later, none of them really wanting to go home. The night is warm and the streets aren’t too busy, so they keep wondering around Notting Hill. At one point, Jughead takes her hand and links his fingers with hers and Betty silently wishes for this night to never end.

They’ve almost walked all the way down to Holland Park, when Jughead nudges her gently and points at something down the street. Betty follows his hand with her eyes and grins when she realizes what he is up to. Down the street, just a little further away is a small, fenced football field and in the middle of it, probably left by a distracted child, a classic black and white football.

She turns her head back to Jughead and just knows by the sparkle in his eyes that he’s got the same thing in mind.

…

The entrance to the fenced field is already locked, so they have to climb over the fence to get in and Betty is suddenly very glad she decided against the high heels earlier on. Her feet are hitting the concrete on the other side of the fence, when a fleeting thought of trespassing crosses her mind, but then she catches a glance of Jughead scooping up the ball and she forgets all about it.

He throws it towards her and the smirk on his face is almost cocky. “Come on Cooper, show me what you got.”

While she positions the ball right at the penalty spot, he jogs towards the goal and positions himself between the two posts. Betty takes a few steps back, focusing her eyes on him. He does that thing again, shaking his head, so his hair won’t fall into his eyes and it almost distracts her. But just almost.

She is quick in her run-up, always has been. The ball flies in a perfect arch and she knows that although Jughead has anticipated the direction, he didn’t anticipate its height. The ball hits the net right in the upper left corner and Betty lets out a triumphant: “Hah!”. She does a little victory dance in the spot where she is standing and Jughead looks at her fondly, while dusting his cloth off and scooping up the ball.

He walks over to her, ball pinned under his left arm. “You are adorable, has anyone ever told you, that?”

Betty grins up at him: “Not yet, but I could get used to it.” She puts her hands on her hips and adds: “So, I think I’ve earned myself something for defeating one of the premier league’s best goalkeepers, haven't I?”

“Oh yeah?” Jughead grins, drops the ball and wraps his arms around her waist. “What, pray tell, did you have in mind Miss Cooper?”

“Mhh, I have one or two ideas.” she mumbles, just before she seals her lips over his.

…

They next morning, Betty is awoken by the loud ringing of her phone. She grabs for it blindly, greeting the unwanted caller with a rather rude: “What?”

“You are shagging Jughead Jones?” Tessa’s voice comes from the other end of the line. It makes Betty wake up with a start and sit up straight.

“I’m not shag… wait, how do you know about Jughead? And how on earth are you getting the idea that…” she interrupts herself, falling back into her pillows she is definitely not sharing with Jughead right now. Not that she doesn’t want to, but they are still not there yet. After their brief stop at the football field he’d walked her home, had given her a goodnight kiss and then left.

“I don’t know, those pictures of you two kissing that are all over the internet made it look like that.” Tessa answers Betty’s unfinished question.

Betty nearly drops her phone at that. “Pictures? What pictures?”

“You haven’t seen them? Oh god love, you need to get to the Daily Mail's website. Now.”

Betty scrambles out of bed and grabs her laptop, yanking it open and punching in the Daily Mail's web address. And then there it is. Front and center on the homepage, a picture of her and Jughead, kissing on the small football field. So much for keeping things between them.


	6. Chapter 6

Betty is not the only one to be woken by a call that morning. Jughead lets out a frustrated groan, when his ringtone rudely pulls him from his sleep. He glances at the alarm clock and lets out a huff. Its 7:30. An hour before his alarm goes off. 2 and a half hours before he has to be anywhere.

Jughead briefly wonders why the universe seems to hate him so much that it has to rob him of one hour of precious sleep and then grabs his phone. The caller ID says “Dad”. His old man should better have a very good reason to call him that early.

“Dad?” Jughead mumbles into the speaker sleepily. “What’s up?”

“I thought we’d left the age at which you keep your girlfriends from me behind us, boy.” 

Jughead sits up and rubs his hand over his face, still too tired to think straight. “Dad, what the hell are you talking about?”

“Well, I was setting up the shop, you know bringing the papers inside, the usual. Imagine my surprise when old Lady Adams passes by on her way to the bakery and asks me if you and your lovely girlfriend were coming to visit after the game against Brighton in two weeks?”

“My…” suddenly a switch clicks over in Jugheads mind and he lets out another groan. “There were paparazzi there, fuck.”

“Seems like it. Its all over the internet, the Daily Mail published pictures.”

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Daily Mail. Pictures. Of him and Betty. Jughead can feel his stomach tighten just at the thought of it.

“Dad, I’m sorry, but I have to handle this. Can I give you a call later?”

“Of course. Hey, just one thing though. You ARE coming by after you guys played the game in Brighton, right?”

“Yes, dad, I promised I would. We’ll have two days off after that one. But I really gotta make a call right now. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Alright, bye son.”

“Bye dad.”

Jughead ends the call and hastily searches for Betty’s number.

(There is also a text from Annie by now.

_“Just once. Just for once, I want one of you lot to listen to me. We’ll have to talk about this after practice. In my office.”_

Jughead knows better than to respond to this. Annie is going to rip his head off anyway, he is not going to make it worse.)

Betty answers after the second ring.

“Jug?”

Her tone is slightly panicked and Jughead wants to punch himself for being so stupid and kissing her out in public. He should have known. He should have known they would be there; he should have known that these vultures never let anyone live their life in peace. And now he’s gotten Betty into this and they’ll find out who she is, where she works, where she lives, where…

“Okay, deep breath now Jughead.” he tells himself. “You don’t have the time to panic. You’ve been exposed to this for years now. She is the one that is new to all this. You freaking out is not going to help her.”

“Betts hey. I suppose you’ve seen it already.”

“Yeah, yeah I did.” She sounds right out scared by now and Jughead’s stomach makes another uncomfortable turn. “Jug, its everywhere.”

“Betty, hey, listen to me okay. We’ll handle this, I promise. It will blow over as quickly as it came. By the day after tomorrow, some member of the Royal Family does something and they’ll have something else to talk about, okay? You are still off today, right?” He tries to keep his tone flat and soothing and hopes with everything he’s got that he can give her at least a little bit of calmness back. Because he knows, that maybe the day after tomorrow, the tabloids will have another story, but he can’t guarantee for the days and weeks after that. He understands how media works. He understands that a story like theirs, the sports reporter and the football player, is A+ gossip material. He knows that Betty knows that too.

But right now, he doesn’t want to think about that. He wants to think about her and only her. He wants to protect her from all the scrutiny and all the noise.

So, when she answers his question with a shaky: “Yes.” he says:

“Okay good. I know this is going to sound weird right now, but whatever plans you had for today, you go and do exactly that, okay? You keep on living your life and you don’t let these vultures stop you, alright? With a little luck they don’t know anything about you yet and I’ll meet up with Annie later and she’ll make sure it stays like that. After practice, I’ll come by and we’ll figure this out together. You should probably put your Social Media on private though. That just makes it easier for them to find out things about you. I know it’s a lot right now, but can you do that love?”

As soon as the term of endearment slips from his lips, Jughead wants to cramp it back into his mouth again. She is probably freaked out as hell right now and he chooses that moment to call her “love” for the first time. Well done Jones, bravo.

But when Betty speaks again, her voice suddenly sounds steadier and he forgets all about it. “Yes, yes I’ll do that.”

“Amazing. I’ll be by right after I talked to Annie. If anything else happens, you call me. Anything you need, okay?”

“Yes, yes sure. And Jug…”

“Yeah?”

“You do the same okay? Don’t loose your focus at practice just because of this.”

Only now, Jughead realizes how much he needed to hear that.

“I won’t, I promise.”

…

“Its EVERYWHERE. Everywhere Jughead.”

Annie turns her laptop around to show him the picture he’d already seen that morning. Betty and him, his arms wrapped around her waist, hers wrapped around his neck, kissing in the middle of the little football field. It would actually be a really nice picture, if it weren’t for the circumstances it was taken in.

“Every major gossip outlet in this country is talking about you two. Didn’t I tell you to leave her alone? Just with these few pictures you gave them content for days, Jug. If they find out who she is, there will be no holding back. The sports reporter and the football star, you know what a huge story that is? They won’t ever leave you alone.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Jughead interrupts her and runs his fingers through his hair. He knows he is sounding harsh right now, but he can't bring himself to care. “Do you really think I haven’t thought about all this? About how this is all going to affect her? Or her career even? Her job is to be impartial about the stuff she is reporting. What do you think Tom is going to say when he sees this? But it is already out there, so what I need right now is for you to stop telling me things I already know and help me find a solution to this mess.”

Annie is quiet after that for a while. For such a long while, that Jughead starts to feel sorry for talking to her the way he did and mumbles: “I’m sorry. I just… all this…”

“You really care for her.” Annie says, her voice full of realization. “This is not just a fling. You actually, genuinely care for her.”

“Of course, I do.” Jughead throws his arms in the air. “What? Did you think I just run around, kissing random girls I just met? Come on Annie, you know me better than that.”

“You wouldn’t have been the first one to do that.” Annie responds and Jughead sighs.

“Listen, I know you had your experiences over the years, but we’ve known each other for four years. Do you really think I’d just… toy with her like that?”

“No, no you wouldn’t. I’m sorry. But Jughead, does she feel the same? You might be in this for the long haul, but what about her?”

Jughead slumps back in his chair. This has only been going for a few hours and he is already exhausted.

“I don’t know. We haven’t really talked about that yet. It is all very new.”

“You might have to have that talk soon then. If she is in this for the long run too, then we all will have to figure out a way to deal with this. I can get you some time, I can tell them to leave her alone, but I can’t promise they’ll listen. Most likely they won’t.”

Jughead sighs. “I know, I know. And I will. Right after this.”

“Well, what are you waiting for? Hush, then, go on! Talk to her and then we’ll all figure this out, alright? I promise there will be a solution for this, but until then you’ll have to do me a favor, yeah?”

“What would that be?”

“Stop snogging each other in public.”

For the first time that day, Jughead lets out a genuine laugh.

…

He arrives at Betty’s flat about half an hour later, carefully scanning his surroundings when he leaves his car. He can’t hear any clicking neither does he see a paparazzi, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t there. They were yesterday after all.

Upstairs, when Betty opens her door, she immediately wraps her arms around him and buries her face into his chest.

Jughead carefully walks them backwards into her apartment, kicks the door shut and buries his face in her hair. They stay like that for a while before Jughead mumbles:

“Are you okay?”

She nods, her face still buried into his chest. “I’m fine. I did what you told me. I went to the supermarket, I went running in Kensington Park, I ignored my mom’s texts about the whole thing. She is probably furious right about now, but I just don’t have the nerve to deal with it.”

She looks up at him and he can see the exhaustion in her eyes. But there is also something else. Something that he hadn’t expected to be there. Relief.

“I also made cupcakes.” she continues. “Way too many for just one person. I was hoping we could just… you know, eat them and watch a movie or something. Have a nice calm evening and not think about anything.”

Jughead knows, that he shouldn’t agree. They should be having a conversation about how this whole press disaster is going to make everything way more complicated. They should be talking about what all of this means. How it is going to affect them. If there is even a "them". But he can’t. Not with the way she is looking at him.

“That sounds good.” he answers, and she smiles and pulls him towards living room.

…

They end up watching the third season of Broadchurch, while stuffing their faces with, what Jughead is sure, are the best cupcakes he has ever eaten. Betty is cuddled into his side, there is a huge fluffy blanket wrapped around them and Hotdog and Caramel are snoozing at their feet.

(Jughead had to go back home and bring Hotdog over. Its no good to leave him alone for too long and he needed to be walked anyway).

It’s all so domestic, it nearly makes him forget about the events of the day.

David Tennant is just stepping out of his house on top of one of the cliffs on screen, while moodily mumbling about a development in the case his character is investigating, when Jughead is hit with an idea.

“Betts?” he whispers.

“Hmm?” Betty hums, sounding like she is on the brink of sleep.

“I was thinking that maybe… you know, in two weeks, we have this game against Brighton and… well my dad lives near there, in a small town. I promised to go visit him after the game and I was wondering if maybe... maybe you wanted to come too? Get out of London for a little? You know, after all that happened today.”

She sits up to look at him properly. “Your dad lives in England?”

“Its… a long story.”

Betty reaches over him and turns of the TV, then turns around again and says: “I like stories. Only if you want to tell me of course?”

Jughead closes his eyes for a moment. He isn’t sure if this is really the best time to tell her all about his messed-up family, but he figures that he just might anyway. They might not be having the conversation they should have right now, but at least he can open up to her a little. He can take a step into the right direction. So, he takes a deep breath and starts to talk.

“Do you remember, the other day, when I told you that the reason, I don’t drink is a family thing? Well, the actual reason is, that my dad has had a drinking problem for as long as I can remember. When I was a kid, money was always short, and he would get into a fight about that with my mom almost every night. It usually ended with him leaving the trailer and not coming back until the early hours of the morning. When he came back, he always... he..." Jughead can't bring himself to say the actual word, but he can feel Betty squeezing his hand encouringly, so he continues: "He never… he never physically hurt us or something, but he’d get… verbally aggressive. He’d yell at my mom or at me, when I tried to get him to stop. My little sister, Jellybean, she was always scared to death by it. When I was about 15, my mom took me and Jellybean and we left to live with my grandparents. He tried to come to the house and convince her to come back. She refused. She’d given up on him. But I never could. I just couldn’t bare the thought that he was out there by his own, probably drinking himself to death. So, I kept in contact with him. And about 6 months after my mom, Jellybean and I left, he actually went into rehab. He relapsed once, but after that he kept his act together. About a year after I came to London, he finished rehab and the doctors there said, that maybe, a fresh start would do him good. By that point, I had enough money to buy him a nice little house, down in Shoreham by Sea. He runs a newsagent there now. My mom and Jellybean are still in Toledo, but he is mending things with Jelly slowly but surely. I go visit him whenever I have a game nearby and well, I thought maybe you wanted to come with me.”

There is silence for a few seconds. He hears Betty take in a sharp breath and when he looks at her again, he is prepared to see the usual pity in her eyes that people always show when they hear about his messed up childhood. He hates that pity. He doesn't want pity. Pity has never helped anyone.

But when he looks at Betty, the pity isn’t there. Instead, Betty leans forward, presses a firm kiss onto his lips and says:

“Thank you.”

Jughead is baffled. “For what?”

Betty smiles and cups his face with her hand: “For telling me all this. And yes, I’d love to come with you.”

“Okay.” is all that Jughead manages, and Betty cuddles into his side again, pressing another kiss right on the juncture where his neck meets his shoulder. He lays there for a long while, even after Betty falls asleep, wondering how someone he met just a little more than a week ago, can know him so well.


	7. Chapter 7

There is a distinct smell in the air, when Betty wakes up the next morning. It smells like home. Home on a Sunday morning.

She turns her head to the left and lets out a groan at the crick in her neck. Falling asleep on the couch hadn’t really been a good idea, but she had felt so comfortable wrapped up in Jughead’s arms that... Wait. Betty is pretty sure she fell asleep with Jughead next to her last night, but she is alone on the couch now and Jughead is nowhere in sight.

Only now, she registers the smell that woke her again and her mind finally catches up. The smell reminds her of home, because someone is making pancakes. Betty sits up and turns towards her inbuild kitchen that is attached right to her living room. Her suspicion is confirmed when she sees Jughead standing there, wearing the same ripped jeans he’d worn when he arrived at her flat last night, hair sticking out into all directions. He is also very shirtless. It makes Betty’s mouth dry out for a second.

Then he turns around, pan in hand and smiles when he notices her awake.

“Morning sleeping beauty. I was getting hungry, so I thought I’d start on breakfast. I hope you don’t mind. And uh… I might have highjacked your washing machine, I’ve got batter on my shirt.” He nods towards the radiator, where his shirt is drying.

She just stares at him for a moment and he grows visibly uncomfortable.

“Betts, are you...”

“You can’t be that perfect.” Betty says, shaking her head slightly. “Nope. This must be a dream. You can’t be genuinely nice, hot, knowing how to use a washing machine and a good cook at the same time. I’m dreaming this. You are not real.”

Jughead laughs, grabs the two plates stacked with pancakes and carries them over to her. Handing her one, he says: “If it is any consolation, I’m only really good at breakfast food. I managed to successfully burn anything else I tried my hand on.”

“It is kind of a relief, actually.” Betty answers and cuts off the first piece of her pancakes. “Oh my god Jug, these are amazing.”

He smiles again, but this time, its not as bright as the first one he gave her when she woke up. Something is bothering him, and Betty has an inkling as to what it is.

Sighing, she puts the pancakes onto the coffee table, right next to where he’d placed his.

“We’ll have to talk about yesterday, won’t we?”

“Yeah, yeah we have to.” He rubs the back of his neck and then slumps back into the couch. “Its not just going to go away Betty. I know I said tomorrow they’ll have another topic to talk about but, well, who am I talking to? You know better than I do how media works. They won’t let loose. As crude as it sounds, but you have to admit that, this, us, it’s a good story. It sells. And it will, every time we go out there. Every time you come to the stadium to do your work, every time…”

“I won’t be coming to the stadium anymore.” Betty interrupts him and his head snaps towards her.

“What? Why?”

Betty swallows and takes a deep breath. She hadn’t wanted to tell him yesterday, because they’d both been exhausted and she didn’t want to think about anything, but if they are having this conversation now, she’ll have to tell him.

“Tom took me off the Arsenal coverage yesterday.”

“He did what?” Jughead’s mouth drops open. “But that’s rubbish. He can’t just take you off the coverage, because of three paparazzi pictures. How stupid is he?”

“Jug…”

“No Betts, this is not okay.” he gets up and starts pacing the room. “It is because he thinks you won’t be impartial anymore, right?”

“Jug.” Betty repeats.

“He thinks you can’t do your job properly, because we are...”

He stops in his tracks and looks at her. “Betts, I can’t do that. I can’t stand in the way of your career, I can’t. That’s not fair to you.”

“Jughead!” Betty says, this time more firmly. She gets up and walks over to him, taking his face into both her hands. “You are not listening. He didn’t take me off the coverage because he thinks I can’t be impartial. I asked him to. Because I can’t be impartial. Not about you. All of this. Us. I can’t be impartial about that. God Jug, I’ve known you for a week and you’ve already become so important to me. And yesterday only made that more obvious to me. I don’t care about all the noise. I want to be with you. I want all of it. I know its not going to be easy, but who cares? Easy is boring.”

He looks at her for a moment, uncertainty in his eyes. “Does that mean, you want to be…”

“Your girlfriend?” Betty suggests. “Yes. With everything that entails. If necessary, I’ll take marital arts classes to defend myself against paparazzi hordes and mpfh…”

His lips crash down on hers before she can finish the sentence and the next thing she knows, they are back on the couch and his hands are everywhere. In her hair, sneaking under her shirt, pulling her closer. She tangles hers in his hair and lets out a small whimper when he drags his lips down her neck and then along her shoulder.

“God.” she thinks. “We should have done this earlier.”

She lets her hands slide over the muscles on his back and then up again to pull on his hair, so he’ll kiss her again. Her whole body is on fire and definitely developing a mind on its own, when her hips buck up against his. He lets out a strangled groan at the move and she does it again, just to see the kind of reaction she can get out of him. He drops his head to her shoulder and closes his eyes.

“You need to stop doing that if you want this to go anywhere.” he grumbles and looks up at her again, a little sheepishly this time. “Sorry, it’s been a while.”

“Don’t worry, for me too.” Betty breaths and leans down to kiss him again, when suddenly, they are interrupted by the tunes of Dolly Parton’s “9 to 5”.

“Oh, you are kidding me.” Jughead mumbles and drops his forehead to her shoulder again.

“That’s my alarm to leave the house for work.” Betty says apologetically and then realizes what she just said. “OH MY GOD, that is my alarm to leave the house. I’m so incredibly late.”

She gives him a shove at that and jumps off the couch to run into the bathroom. He follows her and leans against the door frame, watching her frantically reaching for her toothbrush.

“I can drive you.” he offers. “My car is still downstairs and… oh my god, my car is still downstairs.”

He takes off again and Betty hears him curse. “Fuck, I knew it.”

“What is it?” she yells.

He comes back to the bathroom door, this time with resignation all over his face.

“Paparazzi. Not a lot of them, just two, maybe a third one down the street, but I couldn’t make it out properly. Shit, I knew I shouldn’t have left the car down there. I’m so sorry Betts, now they know where you live and…”

Betty puts the mascara she’d had been hastily applying onto the sink and steps closer to him again. This time, she grabs his hands instead of his face, but it still makes him look at her.

“Juggie, didn’t you hear anything I just said? I want this. And I’m going to handle it with all the consequences. So, do me a favor, get fully dressed, feed Caramel for me, get Hotdog and then drive me to work. Can you do that, love?”

His eyes lighten up and he nods. “Yes, yes I can.” He is about leave the bathroom, when he turns around again. “I have a question though.”

“Shoot.”

He quirks an eyebrow at her. “Dolly Parton? Seriously?”

…

The next two weeks pass by in a blur. Betty tries to live her life as normal as possible. She goes to work, for a run, takes Caramel to the vet and tries to meet up with Jughead as often as both their schedules allow.

There are not a lot of chances, though. FA Cup is starting up, which means now he’s got a game during the week before they are supposed to leave for Shoreham by Sea. It also means, that there is a training session every day and although she really wants him to, he can never stay over. She knows that it frustrates him as much as it does her, but their approaching trip is a silver lining on the horizon. She’ll be traveling down on the train by herself on Sunday night, because Jughead is going to make the trip directly from Brighton after the game on Saturday and she can barely wait.

When they can carve out time though, its beautiful. Jughead always comes up with another idea and he is incredibly clever when it comes to avoiding paparazzi.

Just like tonight. It’s the Friday before they are supposed to visit his dad and its almost eleven when she receives a text from him.

_“Come to your kitchen window.”_

Betty rises an eyebrow. Her kitchen window faces toward the backstreet and she is pretty sure there is nothing there. But, as the good journalist that she is, curiosity wins her over and she pads towards her kitchen window. When she pulls her curtain back, she can’t help but smile.

There he is, holding onto Hotdog’s leash with one hand and gesturing for her to open the window with the other.

“Well, well, what are you doing here so late in this lonely backstreet?” Betty asks and he beams up at her.

“I missed you. Come down and walk Hotdog with me? I know a short cut to Kensington Park.”

“Hmm?” Betty hums and puts her finger on her chin, as if she is contemplating other options. “It’s pretty late though. I should really go to bed. I have a lot of work tomorrow.”

Jughead’s grin widens when he reaches into his back pocket and holds up a bag. “I have Jellybeans.”

Betty laughs. “Convinced.”

…

They end up on a bench in Kensington park, throwing sticks for Hotdog and snacking away on the Jellybeans.

Betty is just recounting a story about her colleague Peter bringing his newborn son to visit the office, when suddenly Jughead says:

“Oh my god, I actually never asked, because that morning we had to leave so rapidly, but what did they sign you up for now? Gosh, I’m such a bad boyfriend.”

Betty laughs, shakes her head and pecks his lips. “No, you are not. I’m on the Chelsea coverage now.”

Jughead pulls a face. “Urgh, now I’m even more sorry.”

Betty shrugs: “Nah. Its not so bad. They are even playing Champions League this year.”

Jughead puts a hand over his heart and winces in mock pain. “That one hurt, Cooper.”

“You’ll survive. And if it helps, their goalkeeper is nowhere nearly as handsome as you are.”

“Ah, there it is. That is what my fragile, male ego needed to hear.” he slips his arm around her shoulders and she leans into him. Jughead breathes a kiss onto her hair and Betty closes her eyes and tries to will Sunday to approach faster.


	8. Chapter 8

They win the game against Brighton on Saturday evening. Jughead spends most of the 90 minutes standing in between his goal posts, wondering if he’ll have to do his job anytime soon. Turns out, that apart from one corner shot he manages to pick out of the air rather securely, nothing interesting happens. They win the game 3:0 and he is just glad when the referee blows the final whistle. He showers quickly and is already halfway dressed, when Ed, their defense midfielder and playmaker drops onto the locker room bench next to him, rubbing his hair with a towel.

Jughead likes Ed. He thinks he is a genius as a playmaker, a funny guy and he shares Jughead’s deep love for Tarentino movies. He’s only got one flaw.

“What’s the hurry Jones? We’re not leaving for another hour. Hot date, with that hot blond from the Daily Mail pictures? How come I’ve never met her? I thought we are mates, don’t mates introduce their girlfriends to each other? You know my wife.”

He is way too curious for his own good.

Seriously, if life was a Dr. Who episode, Ed would be one of these people that walk towards the danger, instead of away from it and get immediately killed off. It makes Jughead want to punch him sometimes.

“I told you, I’m going to visit my dad. You know, like I always do when we play down here and have somewhat of a loose schedule after?”

“Oh, come on Jug, you are not running like this just to see your old man.”

Jughead takes a deep breath. “Ed, seriously, I have a two-hour drive waiting for me, I still have to pick up the rental and I’m hungry, so please, I beg you, just shut it.”

He scoops up his bag, just as Ed opens his mouth again.

“No.” Jughead interrupts him. “She is in London; she has to work today and tomorrow and I’m not going to tell you anything about her, leave it alone.”

“Killjoy.” Ed mutters. “But seriously, you’ll have to bring her around sometime. I want to meet her.”

“Oh, I can think of a billion reasons why that is not a good idea.” Jughead says while walking backwards towards the door.

“Come one, I’m not that bad.”

“Yeah, no. I prefer to not scare her off right away.” Jughead grins and throws Ed a wink. “See you on Wednesday.”

…

He arrives at his dad’s house 3 hours later, with two fully stocked bags of Chinese takeout and the general relief of finally having arrived somewhere. Before he leaves the car, he shoots Betty a quick text that he made it safely and then walks up to his dad’s door, carefully trying to juggle his bag and the takeout, because there is no way he is going to make the walk to the car twice. Crouching a little, he rings the doorbell with his elbow and mere seconds later, the door opens to a widely smiling FP Jones.

“Finally, I was already getting worried,” his father says, taking the takeout from Jughead’s arms. “They said there is a storm coming and I really wouldn’t want you to drive in this weather.”

“It’s good to see you too, dad.” Jughead laughs, drops his bag to the floor and gives FP a hug. Sometimes he wishes he could go back in time and tell his scared and desperate 12-year-old-self that it’s going to be okay. That one day, he’ll have a dad, that worries about genuinely normal stuff like him driving through a storm instead of drinking all his sorrows away.

He follows FP into the living room, where they drop down on the couch and start wolfing their way through the takeout. They talk about everything, starting with the news agent and all the little daily things that happened in Shoreham by Sea, continuing all the way to the game and Arsenal’s chances to actually win the Premier League this year. Jughead is just starting to feel sleepy enough to bit his dad goodnight when FP says: “So what about this girl? You know, the one from the pictures?”

“Dad.” Jughead groans and lets his head fall onto the back of the couch. “First of all, her name is Betty. Secondly, you’ll meet her tomorrow and I’m tired. Please let’s not have this conversation right now.”

“But I want you to tell me about her a little before I meet her. I don’t want to make a fool out of myself tomorrow or embarrass you or something.”

His tone drops at the last few words and Jughead can feel his heart break a little. He knows his dad still feels guilty about a lot of things he has done in the past, although Jughead has forgiven him.

“You won’t” he says and hopes it sounds somewhat soothing. “You could never.”

FP smiles at that and sits up a little straighter. “Well, thanks for the vote of confidence boy, but I’d still rather you tell me a little bit about her.”

Jughead shrugs a little and says: “I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

He can feel that ridiculous, goofy smile spreading on his face, the one that always seems to appear when he thinks or talks about Betty.

“How about you just tell me what she is like?” FP suggests.

“She is brilliant. Smart. Beautiful. Driven. Funny too. And probably any other positive adjective you could think of. She is from this small town in Upstate New York and she works at the Guardian as a sports reporter. You should hear her talk about it, she is like an encyclopedia for all things sports. She bakes the best goddamn cupcakes I’ve ever eaten, and her cat is probably the first and only one to ever get along with Hotdog. There is so much more, but you’ll see when you meet her tomorrow.”

“Well, she sounds great.”

“She is.” Jughead answers.

He is about to get up from the couch when his phone rings in his pocket. His smile widens when he sees the caller ID.

“That her?” FP asks.

Jughead nods. “I’m going to go to bed, dad. You okay cleaning up by yourself?”

“I do it every day, I’ll be fine. Go talk to your girl.”

Jughead shoots him a grateful look and walks out to the hallway where he picks up his bag again and accepts the call.

“Hi love.”

“Hey.” Betty’s voice is soft, almost a little sleepy. “I just saw your message. I’m not disturbing you or anything, right?”

_As if he wouldn’t drop everything he is doing on the spot just to talk to her._

“No, not at all. I was going to go to bed now anyway. You okay? How was your day?”

“Exhausting. It’s always like there are a 100 things at once happening in the last week of August. You know with the transfer window still open and stuff. I felt like I didn’t know what to report on first. Honestly, I can’t wait to get out of that mad house and see you tomorrow.”

Jughead collapses onto the bed in the guest room and suppresses a yawn. “Me neither. My dad is also very excited to meet you.”

“Well, I hope I won’t disappoint then.” Betty responds, her voice taking on that cheeky edge, she always gets when she teases him.

“Oh, he’ll love you. I mean, how couldn’t he?”

She lets out a laugh and Jughead’s heart skips a beat. “I’m not so sure about that.”

“If you’ll just be your brilliant self, he won’t have any choice but to like you, believe me.”

There is a little bit of silence on the other end of the line, then Betty says: “I miss you.”

“I miss you too, love.” Its genuinely true. He’d give a lot to have her next to him right now. “But its only a few more hours and then we’ll have two whole days of just us, the sea and well… my dad.”

Betty laughs at that again. “It almost sounded romantic for a moment there.”

“Oh, we can still make it romantic. Send my dad to the cinema or something and then have the house to ourselves.”

“Tempting. But probably not helping with creating a good first impression.”

“Mhh, yeah. Might be a little rude.”

“Well figure something out. But I should really go to bed now, tomorrow is going to be another busy day. I’ll see you at the train station?”

“Of course. Sleep well, babe. I’ll see you there.”

“Good night, love.”

…

Jughead is at the station 10 minutes early, nervously worrying the cuffs of his leather jacket and keeps checking his phone, as if that will make the train appear faster. He doesn’t even know why he is so nervous. Just last night, he was telling Betty not to worry and now he himself is nervous about the whole thing. Its not that he thinks something will go wrong, its just… the whole concept of Betty meeting his dad does make him nervous.

His dad is lingering inside the train station, turning a candy bar he is too nervous to eat in his hands. The sight makes Jughead laugh a little. They are both kind of pathetic he thinks. He’s never been more okay with that.

The train arrives right on time, but Jughead feels like he’s been waiting for hours. He keeps scanning the crowd for a blond ponytail and when he finds it, another laugh escapes his lip. She is at the door of the train, tugging at the biggest suitcase he’s seen in his life.

Jughead’s walks over slowly, standing behind her for a moment and grinning to himself. She is so incredibly cute it almost makes his heart burst. But there is also the distinct possibility that the train will leave with her suitcase still inside if they don’t get it out soon, so he leans forward a little and says, just loudly enough: “Need any help there?”

Betty whirls around on the spot and when her eyes lock with his, that gorgeous smile appears on her face. He is pretty sure he will never be over the fact that he can cause that smile.

“Juggie!” she exclaims and throws her arms around his neck. He pulls her closer, breathing her in deeply. Its only been a couple of days, but it feels like he hasn’t seen her in weeks. He knows that that’s probably going to be a problem they’ll have to deal with a lot, thanks to the nature of his career, but something deep inside him tells him, that they’ll handle it. That they can handle everything if they just try hard enough.

Although he just wants to stand there and keep holding her for a while, Jughead pries himself away and murmurs: “We have to get your suitcase out of the train love.”

Betty nods and Jughead grabs for the suitcase that is still standing in the doorway of the train. From the corner of his eye, he can see the train guard on the other end of the platform growing more impatient by the minute. He tugs at the suitcase and is surprised by its weight. It more comes falling towards him than he actually lifts it and he just about catches it, before it can knock him backwards into Betty.

“Jesus Betts. What did you pack?”

She shrugs. “Well, we are at the sea after all and I had to prepare. I needed cloth for good weather, cloth for bad weather, cloth for the beach…”

“Cloth in case the apocalypse hits.” Jughead teases.

She rolls her eyes at him: “You’ll be sorry when it does, and I won’t share my survival skills with you.”

“Oh, that’s rude, Cooper.” Jughead says and leans over the suitcase so his face is close to hers. “I thought you liked me.”

“Mhh. I do. With a little luck that might save you.”

Jughead smiles and kisses her at that. He means for it to be a sweet, short peck, but then her hands are in his hair and she tastes like strawberry and vanilla and he can’t help but deepen it. They only break away, when the need for air becomes prevalent. Betty sighs a little and says:

“And that, that might save you too. Also…” she tugs at the lapels of his leather jacket. “This looks very good on you.”

Jughead laughs and puts one arm around her. “Thank you. Now, let’s go find my dad.”

…

FP is still waiting inside the train station, hands now tugged into the pockets of his jeans, his eyes wandering over the few people that exited the train. When he spots them, Jughead can see them lighten up a little. There is still some nervousness lingering behind in his dad’s features, but it disappears completely when Betty smiles at FP brightly as soon as they come to a stop in front of him.

“Dad, that’s Betty. Betty that’s my dad, FP Jones.” he introduces them and Betty takes FP’s outstretched hand almost gleefully. Jughead is pretty sure, his dad has never been greeted more warmly in his whole life.

“Its so nice to meet you Mr. Jones.” and before FP can return the sentiment Betty adds: “Oh, I brought you something.”

She reaches into the front of her suitcase and produces a Tupperware filled with cupcakes. FP stares at the cupcakes, then back up at Betty again. Jughead can see that his father’s mind is reeling for a moment and then a large smile, one that Jughead hasn’t seen in a while, spreads across his father’s face.

“You were right son. She is brilliant.”

…

They spend a pleasant evening on the terrace of FP’s house, talking about everything and nothing, until Betty’s eyes start giving in and Jughead scoops her up to carry her to bed.

The next morning Jughead wakes, feeling giddy about the fact how good they seem to fit together, just snuggled against each other under the sheets. He can hear the sound of the coffee machine coming from the kitchen, which means his dad is already up and making breakfast but Jughead can’t bring himself to move just yet. Everything around him feels warm and cozy and so much better than it has in a long time and he is not ready to give that up just yet.

So, he is just lying there, basking in the feeling, until Betty steers next to him and mumbles: “Why are you always awake before me?”

Jughead lets out a quiet chuckle: “Good morning to you too sunshine.”

He pecks her lips and pulls her a little closer, brushing a strand of hair out of her a face.

“Mhh, morning.” Betty answers and buries her face into his neck.

They lay there in quiet for a while, until a shattering sound comes from the kitchen that makes them both flinch. Its followed by FP letting out a string of curses and Betty giggles into Jughead’s neck.

“Do you think we should go help him?”

“As much as I want to spend the whole day here with you, I think we should. I'm pretty sure he wants to impress by making a breakfast for three people that rivals a hotel buffet and he might hurt himself in the process. Plus there is also a view from one of the cliffs I want to show you.”

Betty nods excitedly and extracts herself from his arms. A move that makes Jughead groan in protest. “I didn’t mean that fast.”

“Oh, come on Jones. Lot of things to see and only 48 tiny hours. Well, more like 45. Let’s get moving.”

…

After breakfast and a very fun story about Jughead and a box of matches, that makes him blush and Betty infinitely amused, FP bids them goodbye and heads off to the news agent.

They take their time, staying out on the terrace a little longer, watching the waves roll onto the shore, when Betty says: “Hey, can I ask you something? About your dad?”

Jughead quirks an eyebrow at her. “Always, you know that.”

“Yes, I do. But it is also a little bit of a tricky question.”

Jughead takes a deep breath. He has a feeling that he knows what she is about to ask, but he also knows that he wants her to know. He wants her to know everything.

“Shoot.”

“The tattoo on his arm, the snake, that is a gang symbol, right? He didn’t come here because he needed a fresh start, he needed to get away from the gang.”

The memory hurts more than he expected, so Jughead is silent for a minute. Betty is about to open her mouth again and he can see that she wants to apologize, but he interrupts her.

“Yes. It’s a gang symbol. But the gang is not the reason why he came here. He got out of that before he went into rehab, it was part of turning his life around. But I guess it didn't hurt that he got far away from them. He also…” the words die on his tongue, but he takes another deep breath. He’s told her so much about his messed up childhood, he might as well continue now. “He also went to prison for it. Two years, a little before my mom, Jellybean and I left. If it would have been for him at the time, I would have followed in his footsteps too. But I was 15 when we left and the initiation usually happens when you are 16, so mom got me out of there right on time.”

Saying it out loud makes him feel relieved and he turns his head towards Betty, who is looking at him with the same look she wore when he’d told her about his reasons to not drink. He wants to kiss it right of her face.

But she beats him to the punch, and he melts into her. When she pulls back, she whispers: “You are so incredibly brave.”

…

In the early afternoon they pack a few sandwiches for lunch and then stroll along the beach towards the cliff and the view Jughead wants to show her. They are about halfway, when suddenly, a little boy, (about 7 years old, Jughead estimates) comes running along the beach. First Jughead thinks he is just playing a game of tag with his mum, because he can see a middle aged women closing up to them too, but then the boy comes to an abrupt hold in front of them and Jughead gets a good look at the shirt he is wearing.

They boy is panting but looking up at Jughead with wide eyes and Jughead thanks the heavens that the universe sent him a little boy for the first fan encounter Betty is going to witness.

Children are his favorite kind of fans. They are adorable and there is nothing like making a child smile. They are also too young to take unwanted pictures, which is probably his favorite part.

Jughead looks over at Betty, who, of course has also caught up to what is happening, then let’s go of her hand and crouches down to be on the boy’s eye-level. “Hi there, buddy.”

“I’m… I’m wearing your shirt.” the little boy stammers out, turning around so Jughead can see the lettering on his back that says “Jones”. He is not going to lie; it still makes him a little proud to see that.

The little boy’s mother has caught up to them by now, also panting and looking at Jughead and Betty apologetically. “I’m so sorry, I told him not to disturb you. But you are his hero and he saw you from across the beach and before I could…”

“Its fine, really.” Jughead interrupts her, shooting her a smile and turning his attention back to the little boy. “What’s your name buddy?”

“I’m Tommy.” the boy answers.

“Tell you what Tommy, if you have a pen or something for me, I can sign that shirt for you.”

Tommy nods enthusiastically and wheels around on the spot to look at his mother. “You do have a pen mommy, don’t you?”

His mothers face falters a little and the apologetic look returns. “I’m afraid I don’t sweetheart. At home maybe…”

“Is that far from here?” Jughead asks.

Tommy’s mom’s head snaps up. “No, only about five minutes down the beach.”

Jughead looks over at Betty again. She’s been following the whole conversation quietly, but because she is Betty, naturally she understands what he is trying to say. She nods slightly.

“We can wait here if you want.” Jughead offers and the mum’s eyes grow wide.

“I couldn’t possibly…”

“No really, its fine.” Jughead says again a little more firmly. “Tommy and I can have a little chat meanwhile, right Tommy?”

The little boy looks up at his mother again, eyes still wide and pleading. “Please mommy.”

His mother faulters at that and 15 minutes later, an excited Tommy is skipping off while his mother thanks them 10 times over. Jughead assures her again that it is completely fine and when he turns around to Betty again, there is an amused smile on her face.

“What?” he asks, taking a step closer to her and wrapping his arms around her.

“You remember when I said I don’t believe you are real? The way you act with children just got added to that list. You can’t possibly be good at everything.”

“Oh, I’m far from good at everything. I told you, I’m a horrible cook for everything except breakfast food.”

“You’ll have to proof that.”

…

He does proof it in the evening, when they are making dinner and FP puts him in charge of the fried potatoes. Jughead manages to burn them gloriously. Betty claims he did it just to prove his point, but then his father walks in carrying the water bottles he'd gotten from the pantry and just lifts an eyebrow at him: “Again?”

Jughead shrugs sheepishly: “You should know by now dad.”

FP lets out another sigh and turns around towards Betty: “Please tell me you can fry potatoes. Tell me, my boy will not starve to death.”

Betty giggles and leans onto the kitchen counter. “I promise. I’ll keep him well fed.”

“Thank god.” FP grumbles and shoos Jughead away from the stove.

They have a simple, but delicious dinner of meatloaf and fried potatoes and after Jughead and Betty take over kitchen cleaning duties. They are just staging the dishwasher, when FP pops his head through the kitchen door again.

“I’m leaving now.”

He points at Betty with a grin. “Don’t let him burn the house down.”

“I’ll keep him away from the matches.”

Jughead rolls his eyes and says: “Bye dad.”

FP gives them another wave and a few moments later, they can hear the front door close.

“Where is he going?” Betty asks and Jughead can’t quiet keep the pride out of his voice when he answers:

“AA meeting. He leads one at the community center every week now. Which also means that we can make this whole kitchen cleaning thing a little more fun.”

He pulls his phone out of his pocket and connects it to the Bluetooth radio he gave his dad for Christmas.

“What do you want us to listen to?”

Betty thinks for a moment, then she says: “Good To Be Alive by Skillet.”

Jughead nearly drops his phone into the sink. “Skillet? The metal band Skillet? The John and Korey Cooper Skillet?”

She nods and looks at him like he is a little dull. “Yes. They are my favorite. Why, is there a problem with that?”

Jughead shakes his head, while trying to catch up to the fact that this wonderful woman is not just funny, smart and brilliant, but also has an amazing taste in music.

“No, not at all. I love them. I just didn’t think you were a Skillet kind of girl.”

She grins. “Well, that is where you are wrong Jughead Jones. I’m always here for loud guitars and insane drum solos. Now turn it up.”

He does as told and mere seconds later the kitchen is filled with not only John Cooper’s but also Betty’s voice. And before Jughead knows it, he is singing along too.

_We hold on to each other_

_All we have is all we need_

_Cause one way or another_

_We always make it, you and me_

They are dancing around the kitchen, shouting out the lyrics while cleaning the counters and Jughead is pretty sure they must be looking ridiculous, but he couldn’t care any less.

_It's good to be alive_

_It's good to be alive_

_I was lost and I was gone_

_I was almost dead inside_

_You and me against the world_

_It's a beautiful night_

_It's good to be alive_

He spins her around and Betty laughs out loud, making his heart wanting to burst out of his chest. She dances away from him when he sets her down and looking at her swaying hips and the way she loses herself in the music, freezes him to the spot.

_Got miles to go before we get home_

_And the journey's just begun_

_We hold on to each other_

_You are everything I need_

_You feel like forever_

_You're a second chance for me_

“You are so beautiful.” the words are out of his mouth before he can realize it and Betty spins around on the spot.

“What?” she yells and only now he realizes that she didn’t really hear him.

“I said, you are so goddamn beautiful.” he yells back and this time, it’s her that freezes.

Its only for the blink of an eye though. Then she drops the rag, she’d been holding and marches over to his phone. The music stops and she gets closer to him.

“Say it again.” she whispers.

“You Betty Cooper, are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my life.”

Jughead can barely finish the sentence before her lips are on his. Suddenly her hands are everywhere, and it feels very much like that morning on her couch, just before they got interrupted by her phone. But this time, Jughead knows, there won’t be any interruption. His dad is not about to get home for at least two more hours and their phones are in the living room, charging.

His hands slip under her shirt and all he wants is to get closer, so close, that he won’t know where he ends, and she starts. Betty squeals, when he hoists her up on the kitchen counter and steps in between her legs. She pulls him in for another kiss and if he is being honest, he doesn’t even know where to touch her first.

They kiss for another while until Betty wrenches herself away from him, with what seems to be a tremendous effort and pants: “Bedroom Juggie.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice and hoists her up again, carrying her over to the guest room. He drops her on the bed and can see her eyes rank all over him, when he gets rid of his shirt. He was going to get rid of his jeans too, because by now they are definitely a little tight, but the way she is looking at him, makes him launch forward to kiss her again. His hands tuck at her shirt and she leans back a little to give him the space to tug it over her head.

Its all a little frantic and he supposes that all this tension had been building between them for the last three weeks, but he is not about to complain. Their lips crush together one more time and then cloth start flying left and right until they are both just clad in their underwear.

By now Betty is startling his lap and he is pretty sure she can feel him against her when she grinds her hips down. But he can feel her too and god, he not just wants her, he NEEDS her. NOW.

But then a thought shoots through his head and he curses. Betty freezes above him, looking confused. Jughead leans over to the bedroom drawer and yanks it open. When he finds it empty, he lets out a groan and drops his head against her collarbone.

“I don’t have protection” he grumbles and takes a deep breath to calm himself down. This is not going to happen tonight, so he might as well…

Betty puts her index finger under his chin and pushes upward slightly so he’ll look at her. Her eyes are still blown wide, her hair is all mussed and he wants to frame her that way.

“Its fine.” she says. “I haven’t missed a pill since I was 16, and Jug, I swear to god, if we stop right now, I’m going to combust.”

He looks up at her, still a little concerned. “Are you sure that…”

“Jughead Jones, I swear to god, if you don’t start kissing me again right this instant, I will never speak to you again.”

Jughead is almost a little annoyed at himself that that is all it takes to convince him, but then she grinds her hips into his again and he is a goner.

The intensity builds with every second that passes and roughly a minute later, all textile barriers are gone. Betty is kissing him again but the moment she slides down, he has to wrench his lips away from hers and burry his face into her neck at the feeling.

This is it; this is how he is going to die and god, he is the luckiest bastard on earth. She keens above him, when he sucks a hickey into her neck and starts to thrust upwards. It takes a few moments, but they find a rhythm and it takes his breath away.

“Juggie, look at me.” Betty says and he lifts his head. The look in her eyes, the blown-out pupils and her swollen lips catapult him closer to the edge immediately and he lets out another groan.

“Shit Betty, I won’t… fuck.”

There is no way he can form a coherent sentence right now, but he knows she gets it.

“It’s okay, me neither.” she pants, and her nails dig into his shoulders. She leans back in his arms a little and it changes the angle in a way that has Jughead seeing stars.

She cries out at the next thrust and he can feel her clench around him. “Jug, I’m gonna… oh god.”

She falls apart a second later and just looking at how pleasure rips its way through her is enough for Jughead to follow suit.


	9. Chapter 9

It’s late. Very late. A “the sun is probably coming up in an hour” late. But Betty can’t sleep. She doesn’t want to. Because if she slept, she would miss a moment of this, miss a moment of the ongoing conversation her and Jughead have been having for the last few hours. She would miss a second of him.

Currently, she is lying on her side, one hand shoved under the pillow. He is facing her, two hands under his pillow and lying flat on his stomach, still bare from earlier. She is in a similar state of undress, but too giddy to care. The world could probably end right now, and she wouldn’t care, she’d just keep talking to him.

“You googled me?” she giggles, and he shrugs while draping one arm over her waist.

“What can I say, I just really liked you. But don’t worry, your digital footprint is not concerningly large. All it came up with was your staff page, your Instagram and an article about your graduation.”

“Well, there is more to find about you.” Betty smirks and he lifts an eyebrow.

“You did a Google search on me too?”

“As the good journalist I’m, yes I did. There are a lot of interesting facts about you on the world wide web.”

“Which would be?”

“For one, your real name, Forsythe.”

He lets out an annoyed groan and buries his face into his pillow.

“Cursed be the day I got a Wikipedia page. It’s all lies, Betts. It was never Forsythe. No one is cruel enough to name their child that. Forget it immediately.”

“Oh, you are telling me Wikipedia is not to be trusted?” Betty teases and he turns his face back to her.

“Mhh, yeah. I’m still convinced my little sister put that there just to be a pain in the ass. There are way more credible sources out there.”

Betty runs a finger along his spine, and he shivers a little. She decides the fact that she can get those kinds of reactions out of him is her new favorite thing in the world.

“Well, then tell me something I can’t find on Google.”

Jughead is quiet for a minute.

“When I was younger, I used to write a lot. I had this old, second-hand laptop that I used to type the days away on. It was my way of escaping, I think. I wrote all these stories about people fighting crime, about these smart people that could solve a case within seconds just by hearing the right word or finding the right clue. But then the football thing took off and ever since then, I never really found the time. The laptop still exists though. Somewhere at my mom’s house back in Toledo.”

Betty is surprised for a moment. Not about his revelation, but about the fact that she didn’t see it. He is so articulate, of course he is a writer. Or was. She can see it in front of her inner eye. A younger version of him, sitting behind a laptop, that grey old beanie on his head, furiously typing away.

“Maybe you can show me someday.” she mumbles, and he nods.

“I will. Your turn.” he says lightheartedly and probably expects some fun story from her youth, but Betty knows that that is not going to be it.

She knows what she wants to tell him. She has been wanting to, ever since they kissed for the first time. Whenever she opened her mouth to tell him though, they got interrupted or he said something so sweet, something so wonderful, that it made the words die on her tongue. But he has been so honest with her, he has let her in on all the chapters on his life, she can’t keep this to herself anymore.

So, she stretches out her arms towards him, palms turned upwards and says: “Take my hands.”

He shifts onto his side and carefully grabs them.

“Stroke your thumbs over my palms.” Betty instructs.

She can see that he is a little confused by what she is doing, but he does as she tells him. When his thumbs reach the centers of her palms she asks:

“Can you feel them? The little scars?”

He nods and just looks at her. He doesn’t ask questions, he doesn’t pry, he just waits for her to explain. If she didn’t know that the walls were thin and his dad was sleeping on the other side of the wall, she’d definitely be jumping him.

“No Betty.” she tells herself and takes a deep breath. “This is important. Focus.”

“I know they are practically invisible now, but they weren’t always. My family, my mom in particular, was always very careful to depict this image of the perfect All-American family, although we never were. It was a façade, an act. One my mother had built herself, as soon as she made it out of the worse part of town when she was younger. She was relentless. Put a lot of pressure on me and my sister. Nothing was ever good enough for her. Not the grades we got, not the way we behaved and especially not the way we looked. Every meal we ate, every person we met, every step we took, she was there to control if it matched her standards. Needless to say, it never did. And the scars, digging my nails into my palms, it was my only way to cope. To release the pressure. It only stopped, after I went away for college. When I was finally able to live my life the way I wanted, I realized that what I was doing wasn’t healthy at all. So, I went to see a therapist. Sierra. She was amazing and she helped me figure out a lot of stuff. She was also the one that encouraged me to file an application for The Guardian. I’m still sorting stuff out, but it’s gotten so much better over the last year. The distance helps the relationship with my parents, although my mom was very unamused about the fact that she had to find out about you from an online article. She instantly wanted to meet you, but I told her that it was too early and if I’m honest, I’m still not sure if I’m ready for you to meet her, even if it is just over FaceTime. She is a real piece of work and all of this, us, is way too important to let her mess it up again. Because she has a habit of doing that. People tend to run once they meet my crazy mother. I know, it sounds harsh but… it is just the way it is. I hope some day we can have a normal mother daughter relationship, but it is still a long way off.”

Only now she realizes that she’s been looking down, turning her eyes away from Jughead. She is afraid of his reaction, afraid that he might do the same thing everyone did once they found out.

But then he speaks, and his voice is so gentle, so understanding, that she almost can’t bare the relief flooding through her.

“Betty, nothing could ever scare me away.” he takes her hands, clasps them together and brings them up to his lips. “You.” he punctuates every word with a kiss to her knuckles. “are. worth. everything.”

…

A bell rings over the door of FP’s news agent when Betty opens it. FP looks up from the magazine he is reading behind the counter and pushes a pair of reading glasses further up his nose.

Its strange. Betty knows who he has been when he was younger, what he did, but she just can’t match the nice man in his mid-50s that is currently smiling at her from behind his counter to the FP from what Jughead told her. She understands him though. When she’d been in therapy, she had learned a thing or two about turning one’s life around and her boyfriend’s father had done a whole lot of it. It makes her feel connected to him in a way.

“Hello dear.” FP says and leans back in his seat a little to look behind her: “Where is Jug?”

“He is at the Tesco around the corner, stocking up on snacks for our drive back. You know, in case he will be starving to death on a roughly two-hour drive. And I’m…” she answers and picks up an edition of the Guardian. “in charge of the reading material. Well, I’m not really, but I need to stay up to date and I hate staring at the small screen of my phone for too long.”

FP laughs. “Comes with the job I suppose?”

“Yeah, kind of.” Betty answers and reaches into her bag to pay for the newspaper. FP waves her off.

“That one is on the house, honey.”

“Mr. Jones, I couldn’t possibly…”

“No, really, it is okay. And you earned FP the moment you handed me those cupcakes.” FP says and his voice takes the same firm tone Jughead’s did the day before on the beach when he tried to convince little Tommy’s mother to go get a pen. There is no arguing with that tone.

“Thank you then, FP.” Betty says instead and leans against the counter. She catches a glimpse at the magazine FP is flipping through. It’s about motorcycles and although she can’t match the FP she met and the gang member, she can imagine him on a motorcycle.

“Hobby of yours?” Betty asks and nods at the magazine.

“It was.” FP answers with a sigh. “I used to ride quiet a lot in my old life. It is probably better if it stays there. I always thought I would teach Jughead one day, but I never… I wasn’t…”

He interrupts himself and looks up back at Betty.

She arranges her facial features carefully, but apparently not carefully enough, because FP still sees through her.

“He told you.”

“Yeah, he told me.”

“And you are still here.”

Betty rises her eyebrows in confusion: “Of course I’m. Why wouldn’t I be?”

FP opens his mouth to answer her and then closes it again, shaking his head with a smile.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t you be?” he says. “But because you know, I have to ask something of you. I know, this is going to sound very typical because I’m his dad and all but… please promise me you won’t hurt him. He has got a lifetime of that just by being born as my son.”

Betty can see guilt flicker up in his eyes and puts a hand over his in an effort to reassure him. “I won’t. I’ll be here for as long as he’ll have me.”

There is quiet for a while until there is a rustle at the door and FP sighs again: “And maybe make sure he doesn’t hurt himself when he tries to pull doors that clearly say push.”

…

Time flies by on the ride home, between more Skillet songs and their easily flowing conversation. Betty finds out Jughead’s favorite song (It is, unsurprisingly “Freakshow”, something she should have guessed) and they happily munch away on their pile of snacks. She is honestly a little disappointed when she sees London’s skyscrapers appear on the horizon. If it had been for her she'd driven up to the farthest corner of Scotland with him. She knows that they both have to be up early tomorrow, but she also doesn’t want to go back to her apartment alone.

So, after they give back the rental, ride the two remaining stations to her apartment on the Tube and Jughead insists on walking her to her building although he still has one station left, she can’t help but ask him to stay for the night. He doesn’t even think for a second before agreeing and she grabs his hand and pulls him inside.

…

The next morning, she arrives at work in the most relaxed state she has been in a while and a smile on her face. When she slides onto her office chair, on the left side of the two opposing desks she shares with Tessa, her friend crooks an eyebrow at her.

“Had a good few days off with lover boy then, huh?”

Betty can feel herself blush and wraps one strand of hair around her finger.

“It was nice.” she concedes and hopes that the conversation will end there, but of course Tessa doesn’t let her off the hook so easily.

“Mhm, I bet all that good mood and the fact that your hair is down, is just because you had a nice” she makes quotation marks with her fingers. “time. Tell me, was he still there this morning when you left your apartment?”

Betty blushes a little bit more. “Tess. Stop it.”

Tessa shakes her head and leans back in her chair with a victorious grin. “So he was.”

“Oh my god Tessa Brooks, just stop it.” Betty huffs and pretends to really have to focus on typing the password for her staff account.

Tessa is right of course. Well partly. Jughead had left her apartment before her, but he’d still been there when she woke up. It had actually been a considerable effort to get him awake. It also had been kind of cute, when, after she’d shaken him for a solid five minutes, he’d only pulled her closer by the waist and whined:

“No. Sleep. Cuddles. Stay here.”

Betty supposes it had been partly her fault. After all, she’d been the one to wake him up again in the middle of the night. Twice. Their night at FP’s place might have broken a dam.

In the end, she’d coaxed him out of bed with the promise of a cup of coffee and bacon and eggs and they’d reluctantly left the apartment around 8 to make it to work.

So yes, Tessa is not completely wrong.

And while Betty checks her e-mails, her hand comes up, to lightly touch the hickey Jughead had left on her neck the night before. It makes her smile widen even more.


	10. Chapter 10

Jughead loves England. He really does. He loves the people, the landscape, the humor is right down his alley, sometimes he even loves the way their accent sounds. But the weather here is the absolute worst. It’s raining. Of course, it is. It is raining buckets and he has to go out on that field for practice.

Nonetheless he makes his way outside and tries to keep himself motivated with the thought of the warm shower he is getting afterwards. It’s only semi successful, but he makes it through practice and tries to focus on the fact that he gets to talk to Jellybean this afternoon and might see Betty at night. Well, he will see her at night. He is going to make sure of that, because the current one is the only week with a schedule that allows him to be with her more than twice a week for the next month and he is going to make the most of it.

After the shower his mood is almost back to where it was when he left Betty’s apartment this morning but halfway through dressing and checking his phone, life sends another annoyance his way and Jughead starts to wonder if god, fate or whatever, just really doesn’t like seeing him in a good mood.

“Oi, Jones, god a new cat? Thought you were more of a dog person?” comes the voice of Chad Harrison from behind him.

Jughead likes to think that he can control his reaction to people better now. He likes to think, that he is not like his 16-year-old-self anymore that threw around dark humor and scowls in self-defense. Well, most of the time.

But there are people that just trigger that reaction in him all over again. People like Chad Harrison. If someone made a list of all the clichés that were out there about young football stars, Chad would tick every box. Every. Single. One. Most of the time, Jughead tries to be the bigger person and just ignore him. This time however there was a question directed towards him and he probably can’t just ignore that.

“Hey, I’m talking to you.”

Yup, he can’t.

Jughead turns around and tries to keep his expression as neutral as possible.

“I have no idea what you are talking about, Chad.” he says, and the calmness in his voice surprises even himself. Maybe he is finally learning how to deal with douchebags. Or the last few days with Betty just put him in such a relaxed state that he is more accepting to stupidity now. Probably a little bit of both. He has never been one for locker room talk anyway.

“Well, those scratches on your back didn’t just appear out of nowhere. Either you got yourself a very restive cat to replace that flee bag you call a dog or…” Jughead almost roles his eyes at the pause his teammate leaves for dramatic effect. “Little Jonesy here finally grew up and got himself a girlfriend. Was it the blond from those pap pictures? She did look feisty in those. Come on Jonesy, tell me.”

Remember how he just thought about how he was feeling surprisingly relaxed and calm? It’s astonishing how all that can evaporate within a few seconds.

“Chad, I swear, it would be better if you’d just keep your mouth shut.”

“Why, does that question offend you? I mean she is hot; I can’t blame you. I would totally…”

“Chad, ENOUGH.” comes another voice from their left and Jughead can feel his fists unclench. Funny, he didn’t even notice he clenched them in the first place.

Ed is coming towards them, freshly out of the shower and frowning at Chad. Jughead supposes it is a “team captain” thing, but it is kind of impressive how much authority Ed manages to radiate while wearing nothing more than a towel. Chad open and closes his mouth like a fish and Jughead has to bite the inside of his cheek to not laugh at how ridiculous that looks.

“I was just making conversation.” Chad finally gapes out and Ed snorts.

“Yes, I’m sure you were. I know what your kind of conversation sounds like and it might be one of the many reasons why Jug here currently has a girlfriend and you don’t. As much as I value you as a player on that field outside, right now I really have to tell you, that you need to shut the hell up and leave other people’s business to them. So, hush now, get changed and go do whatever you do when you are not here.”

Chad stares at Ed for another moment, opening his mouth again, but then seems to decide against it and struts away.

“Thanks.” Jughead murmurs when Ed turns around again and starts rummaging around his locker.

“No need.” Ed answers. “He is just another one of those lads that still think this is school, where the fact that they are good at kicking a ball around opens them all the doors. He’ll learn soon enough.”

….

It is still raining when Jughead arrives at home, hands full with groceries. His fridge had practically been empty before he left for Brighton last Friday, but on his way back from the training ground he’d had an idea and that idea needed a well-stocked fridge. He’d also picked up Hotdog from the “animal hotel” and he hopes that the weather will clear a little to take him for a good, long walk later.

Hotdog for one seems to be ecstatic to be home again, judging by the way he bolts into the apartment right away. Jughead chuckles at his furry friend, then places the groceries strategically on the kitchen counter, takes a picture and texts it to Betty.

_Any chance you’d teach this poor untalented peasant how to not burn very valuable groceries tonight?_

She answers just a few moments later.

_I’d be willing, but what do I get out of it? ;)_

Jughead takes another picture, this time of Hotdog.

_Cuddles. And a very excited Hotdog that can’t wait to see you again._

_Well, I can’t say no to Hotdog, can I?_

…

Betty arrives at 7 p.m. and it is almost ridiculous how much everything inside Jughead lightens up the moment he sees her. He’s just spent a full 48 hours with her and with any other person that would be enough to make him feel exhausted for at least a week. But not with Betty. With Betty it feels like every minute not spent with her is a minute wasted.

She smiles brightly and stands on her tiptoes to kiss him after taking off her raincoat.

“How was your day?” Jughead asks against her lips and she shrugs.

“Normal, nothing too exciting. I think things will be calm now until Champions League starts up, unless someone decides to go on a buying spree before the transfer window closes. Yours?”

“It started out great, got a little annoying later, but then got better again. Its amazing now that you are here.”

Betty frowns. “Annoying?”

“Yeah, this rain is not exactly my favorite weather to train in and some of my teammates have never heard of personal boundaries.”

“That only helped to confuse me more.”

Jughead chuckles, turns around and lifts his shirt to show her the scratches on his back. “Chad was very curious about those.”

Betty’s face is flushed beet red when he turns around again.

“Are those… did I do that?”

“Well Hotdog’s claws just got cut, so the chance is about 100 % that you did that, yeah.”

Betty’s facial expression changes and she hits his chest. “You are an idiot sometimes. Let’s see what in your fridge we can use to cook a decent meal, before your ego inflates too much.”

…

They decide on lasagna, which turns out to be surprisingly easy to make from scratch. They’d just slid it into the oven when Betty’s phone rings and Jughead sees her freeze.

“Who is it?” he asks, and she looks up at him with a little bit of terror in her eyes.

“My mum.” she answers and lets out a huff. “I told her not to do this.”

“Not to do what?”

“Call me while I’m here. I might have told her that I’m going to meet you tonight in the hope she’ll leave me alone, but I should have known she wouldn’t.”

“Let me answer it.” Jughead says and Betty’s mouth drops open.

“What?”

“Let me answer it. I’m the king of parental problems, I can handle it.”

“Jug are you sure? She is not easy and I’m…”

Jughead takes her hand in his and strokes it reassuringly.

“I already told you, nothing can scare me away. Trust me.” He can see the tension deflate from her muscles.

“Okay.” she mumbles and hands him the phone. Jughead takes the FaceTime call and Betty’s mom’s face comes up. She looks exactly like he expected. Clean cut, blond hair, lips in a small line, eyebrows perfectly plugged.

“You are not my daughter.”

“Correct.” Jughead answers. “Hello Mrs. Cooper, nice to meet you. Betty can’t come to the phone right now.”

“And why would that be?”

“She is indisposed. I’m afraid you’ll have to tell me, whatever you need from her.”

Alice arches an eyebrow. “No, that is fine. I wanted to talk to you anyway. I take it, you are... Jug-head then.”

“Yes ma’am.” Jughead answers and suppresses the urge to role his eyes at the way she just pronounced his name. “Jughead Jones. Living in Notting Hill, London. American by birth, not so much by choice. Proud owner of a sheep dog called Hotdog. Blood type 0 positive. Two functioning kidneys. Current occupation: professional football player, with no plans to murder your daughter. Just acquired the skill of cooking and not burning lasagna. Also, currently very hungry.”

Behind the phone he can see Betty doing her best to not burst out laughing and it makes him smile.

Alice on the other hand seems almost a little impressed. She arranges her facial features immediately though.

“Well, my daughter certainly picked a quick-witted boyfriend. I suppose there isn’t any chance I get to talk to her tonight?”

“Maybe tomorrow Mrs. Cooper. But it was nice meeting you.”

“It was nice meeting you too, Jughead. Tell my daughter to call me tomorrow.”

“I will. Goodbye!” Jughead waves at the phone cheerily and thinks he can almost see a smile on Alice’s face.

“Goodbye,” she answers and Jughead ends the call.

Betty stares at him for a second when he looks up at her again and then breaks out into a fit of laughter.

“No one… Absolutely no one…” she gasps out in between giggles. “Has ever talked to my mom that way and I really can’t believe you just did that.”

“I told you I could handle it.” Jughead says, places the phone on the kitchen counter and steps closer to envelope her in a hug.

Betty takes a deep breath to calm herself down and snuggles her face into his chest.

“Yeah, I shouldn’t have underestimated you on that. I’m sorry."

“It’s fine.” Jughead mumbles and breaths a kiss onto her hair. “I think I earned me that lasagna now, though.”

Betty lifts her head and beams up at him. “Oh, you definitely did.”


	11. Chapter 11

September comes and goes in a whirlwind of work and stress for both of them. The rhythm of games picks up considerably and Betty feels like there is something else every day that makes it impossible for her and Jughead to see each other. She learns what it means for your boyfriend to have the schedule of a professional athlete and she misses him. Really misses him.

She never leaves the house or goes to bed without a text from him and he FaceTimes her from every single one of his trips all over Great Britain and once the Europa League starts up, from all over Europe. It doesn’t make up for him really being there with her, but it considerably eases the aching in her chest whenever his face comes up on the screen of her phone.

When they have time, they mostly huddle up in one of their apartments with takeout food and a good movie that they never watch entirely. They don’t get to do anything else really, but Betty doesn’t mind. She feels like she is running most of the time anyway, so when she gets to sit down on her sofa with him and rest her feet in his lap like tonight, she is entirely content.

But as much as she wants to only focus on the way his fingers massage the bottoms of her feet, there is a question that has been whirling around her mind the whole evening and she doesn’t know how to address it. It is the evening of the 1st of October and she knows that it's his birthday tomorrow (the Google search really paid out). She also knows that he doesn’t like his birthday. He has told her all about it, about how, during his childhood, it had always been this arbitrary day, during which his parents pretended everything was fine when really it wasn’t.

And she gets it. She does. But there is also a chocolate cake she knows he likes in her fridge; she might have bought him a small but significant present, and she’s seen a sign for a street foot festival in Kensington Park that she just knows he’d love. Plus, miracles of miracles, they are both free tomorrow and it is the first whole day they get to spend together in weeks, so, all evening she’d been pondering on how to break her ideas to him.

“Hey, what are you thinking about?” Jughead says and nudges her foot a little.

Oh well, right now might be as good as a time as any.

“Tomorrow.” Betty says and the immediate frown that appears on Jughead’s face makes her want to cramp the single word back into her mouth. He drops his head onto the back of the couch and groans.

“Betts… You know what I think about my birthday, I don’t…”

“I know, I know.” Betty interrupts him. “But, just listen to me. I swear it is nothing you wouldn’t like and I’m not going to try to force anything on you. It’s just… three small surprises.”

Jughead quirks his eyebrow at her. “Three surprises?”

“Maybe four.” Betty answers and tries not to blush at the thought of the lingerie she bought on a whim last week, that is currently tucked away in one of her drawers, right next to his present.

Jughead seems to think for minute, then his face goes soft and he whispers. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I trust you Betty. I trust you that you haven’t come up with anything I wouldn’t like. So yes, okay, I’m going to just wait and see.”

Betty smiles: “Okay.”

…

The next morning, Betty wakes up with a giddy feeling in her stomach and Jughead’s arm firmly wrapped around her waist. She tries not to wake him when she crawls out of bed and tiptoes into the kitchen to prepare the chocolate cake.

Although he agreed to her Birthday suprises, she foregoes a candle because she thinks that blowing out candles might be pushing it too far for now. Maybe next year.

He pads into the kitchen 10 minutes after her, still adorably sleepy and with his hair sticking out in all directions. Betty loves how soft he is in the morning, how there is none of the tension left that seemed to have been his constant companion during the last few weeks.

“Happy Birthday.” she says cheerily and Jughead smiles when he pulls her in for a hug and breaths a kiss onto her hair.

“Thank you.” he mumbles and strokes his hand up and down her back. It feels good and Betty allows herself to melt into him a little, before she extracts herself from his embrace again and grabs the plate with two slices of chocolate cake.

Jughead’s face lightens up when she hands it too him and she almost laughs at the childlike excitement in his voice when he says: “I get to eat chocolate cake for breakfast?”

“I told you there were surprises.”

“Mhh, I like the first one.” he mumbles.

They eat in a comfortable silence and after, Betty digs his present up from the back of her drawers. She hands him the flat, rectangular parcel and he opens his mouth to say something, but she interrupts him before he can get the words out: “Don’t you dare say it. Its nothing big, I promise.”

Jughead looks like he still wants to protest, but carefully opens the wrapping paper. For a short moment confusion flickers over his face and then his eyes lighten up.

He looks up at her and smirks: “Elizabeth Cooper, did you steal the sign from the street corner we met on?”

Betty rolls her eyes and reaches out to gently hit the back of his head. He of course dugs it (Goalkeepers reflexes. One day though. One day she’ll get him) and she laughs: “Of course not. I had it made. You said you liked the way the street signs here look so different from the one’s in the US and I thought it would look great in your apartment.”

“It will look amazing. Thank you.” he mumbles and leans over the counter to kiss her.

…

The real highlight of the day is, unsurprisingly, the food festival. Jughead nearly hyperventilates when he sees the many colorful stands and turns around to her with more glee on his face that she ever thought he was capable of.

“This is perfection. Oh my god.”

He peppers her face with kisses before pressing a firm kiss to her mouth and then taking her hand and pulling her towards the stands. They eat themselves through at least five different countries and have 2 different desserts, before even Jughead gives up. He gives the rest of his corndog to Hotdog and it is already getting dark when they make their way back to Betty’s apartment.

“You’ll never hear this from me again, but I think I can’t eat even one more bite today.” he says when they drop onto her couch.

Betty giggles and snuggles into his side. “I’ll make sure to mark it in my calendar.”

His arm thightens around her and he rests his cheek on her head.

“And the surprises aren’t over yet.” Betty adds in a low voice and Jughead lifts his head to quirk an eyebrow at her.

“Oh yeah?” he asks, and she knows that he exactly knows what she is talking about but decides to tease him a little.

“Hmm, yeah. I might have one more surprise for you. It’s a pity you don’t like them.”

“I might have changed my opinion on that. No actually, someone might have changed my opinion on that.”

“Oh, is that right?” Betty asks innocently. “Who would that be?”

She can see a different kind of hunger flicker up in his eyes when he answers: “There is this beautiful girl that my dog ran over a few months ago. She might be really good at birthdays and it might have changed my opinion on them.”

“I’ll let that count.” Betty concedes and then pulls him in by the collar of his shirt for a kiss.

…

After, when they lie with their limps entangled and Jughead’s hand caressing the back of her head, Betty is almost asleep when he mumbles: “Betts?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.” It’s a simple statement, only those two words, but she can feel the significance they are carrying.

“Always.” she whipers and means it.

…

By the time Halloween rolls around, Betty is still drowning in work but can’t help feeling impossibly giddy about the upcoming holiday. Well, only a holiday for her really, because Halloween falls on a Tuesday this year and that is thankfully one of her days off.

She’d always liked Halloween, ever since she was a little girl. The costumes, the staying up late, the candy and later, the horror movies she’d watch with Polly under the covers, after her parents had gone to bed. She’d been a little afraid that after moving to the UK, all those Halloween traditions would fade away. Luckily she had met Tessa, who is as much as a Halloween aficionado as she is and with Jughead scheduled for a trip to Wales, to play Swansea in the FA Cup, they plan out a whole girls day with baking Halloween themed cookies, visiting an actual haunted house in the evening and an old fashioned movie marathon with all the Halloween classics in the end.

And truly, Betty is looking forward to it. She really does. She even sets herself a reminder to buy more eggs and flower. But then Jughead’s afternoon training session on Monday gets cancelled thanks to a thunderstorm that paralyzes nearly half of London and they spend an afternoon with hot chocolate and good books, and she forgets all about it.

In fact, she only remembers the next morning, when, while Jughead is in the shower and she is checking if her fridge contains all the ingredients for pancakes, the doorbell rings.

Everything comes back to her at once. Tessa. The Halloween cookies. She was supposed to buy more eggs and flower. Shit.

She hurries to the door in her morning gown, yanks it open and splutters out: “I’m so sorry.”

Tessa crooks an eyebrow at her and Betty can see that her best friend is holding back a laugh. “Good morning to you too. What are you sorry for? And why are you still in your pyjamas?”

Betty blushes and gestures for Tessa to come in and follow her into the kitchen. Her best friend perches on the kitchen counter, while Betty wrings her hands and tries to explain: “I swear I’m normally not like this, I’m normally not such bad friend, but I really forgot buying the eggs and flower yesterday because…”

“Babe?” Jughead’s voice suddenly interrupts them from the corridor. “Have you seen my… Oh. Hi.”

He stops in his tracks at the kitchen door and regards Tessa curiously, who looks in between him and Betty and still seems to barely contain a giggle. None of them says anything for a moment that feels like an eternity to Betty. This is not how she wanted her best friend and her boyfriend to meet. Not just right the moment when she is about to tell said best friend that she forgot about all their plans because of said boyfriend. Her head is reeling 100 miles an hour, trying to come up with something to ease the awkwardness of the situation until Jughead extends his hand towards Tessa, and says: “I’m Jughead. And you must be Tessa. Heard a lot about you.”

Tessa grins and takes his hand: “Tessa. Heard a lot about you too. How come we never met?”

Jughead shrugs: “Busy schedules I suppose. But it is nice finally meeting you.”

“Same. I would give you the whole ‘best friend threatens boyfriend with dismemberment’ speech, but I’m not like that and our Betty here can very well defend herself, so we can skip that.”

Jughead laughs and turns back to Betty, who relaxes visibly and gives him a smile before she says: “Beanie?”

Its Jughead that blushes now: “Yeah. Can’t find it. Again.”

Betty rolls her eyes fondly at him, marches over to the couch, lifts a cushion and grabs his beanie.

“Where it always ends up.” she grins and before he opens his mouth again adds. “Yes, you can leave Hotdog here, car keys are in your coat and your phone is on top of the fridge, right where you left it last night.”

“I’d be lost without you.”

“I know.” Betty smiles and stands on her toes to peck his mouth. “And now hurry, or you’ll be late, and we don’t want that.”

“Yes ma’am” Jughead says and mock salutes her. She playfully slaps his chest, he grabs his phone from the fridge, kisses her again and then waves Tessa goodbye.

“See you soon, Tessa.”

“Only if Betty here stops hiding you from me. Good luck at the game. Give them hell.”

“We’ll try our best.”

And with that he is out of the apartment. Betty looks after him for second then turns around to Tessa. As soon as she catches her best friend’s eye, the both dissolve into laughter.

“I like him.” Tessa announces, after she catches her breath again. “And you two are adorable.”

Betty feels herself blush again. “Thank you, Tess. And again, I’m SO sorry I forgot about our plans today, I just…”

“It’s okay, I get it.” Tessa shrugs and hops off the kitchen counter. “You are forgiven. Now go get dressed and let’s get going for these eggs and flower, so we can finally spend Halloween like God intended.”


	12. Chapter 12

About two weeks after Jughead meets Tessa, Betty meets Ed. Well, not literally. More in a FaceTime kind of way.

Thanks to a nasty and incredibly insistent storm, Jughead and his teammates are stuck at the airport in Glasgow. It’s been hours and Jughead has already downloaded the fifth throwaway mobile game on his phone, when a FaceTime call from Betty comes through. He thanks the heavens for the distraction and accepts it.

“Hey you.” Betty smiles. “Already bored?”

“Beyond.” he groans. “Ed and I watched a baby trying to eat her foot for about 30 minutes and made a bet on if she’ll succeed.”

“Ooooookay. Wow, you guys need to go out of that airport.”

“God, you have no idea how much I want to do that. I feel like we’ve been waiting for forever. There was an elder gentleman here that said if he’d known he’d walked down to London. And he is probably right.”

“Do you guys know when you will get out of there?”

“Well, for now they said…” Out of nowhere a hand shoots over his shoulder and grabs his phone. He turns around in his seat and sees Ed grinning at him. “Hey, Ed, what the hell?”

His teammate doesn’t answer, just looks at the screen and grins.

“Uhm, hello?” he hears Betty say and reaches over the seats to get his phone back. Ed just leans back further, smirks at him again and then takes off to the other end of the terminal. Jughead stands there for a minute, dumbfounded, but then jumps over the row of seats and runs after him.

By the time he reaches Ed and starts another attempt at snatching his phone back, he can hear him say:

“I had to take desperate measures, because Jug always talks about you, but he won’t introduce you to us."

“For obvious reasons.” Jughead says, loud enough so Betty will hear him too and Ed rolls his eyes.

“See what I mean?”

They scramble for the phone for a second, until Jughead can hear Betty laugh. “Yeah, sometimes he is a little slow.”

“Hey, that was for your own protection.” he defends himself, while Ed laughs again.

“I like her. Okay, his face is starting to turn red, I’ll better give him the phone back. It was nice to meet you Betty. I hope we can meet in person some time soon. Bye.”

“That would be great. Bye.” Betty answers.

Betty looks infinitely amused when Ed hands him the phone back and just the fact that all this made her smile, almost convinces Jughead to forget all about it and not push Ed of the plane, once they finally get into one.

“So, that was Ed.” he says. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Betty laughs. “He seems nice.”

“He normally is except when he steals people’s phones. But let’s talk about something else and way more important: How was your day?”

…

“She knows that Thanksgiving is not a big deal here and that you will be working, doesn’t she?” Jughead asks, while massaging the shampoo into her hair.

Betty hums contently at the movement of his fingers before she answers.

“She does. But that won’t stop her from coming over and hijacking the day. She made up her mind about it and it will happen. There will be a perfectly planned Cooper Thanksgiving in my apartment, and I can’t do anything about it. You are invited too by the way.”

“Maybe it will be nice?” Jughead tries and Betty turns around, quirking an eyebrow at him, while he tries not to get distracted by the fact that they are both very naked at the moment. They need to stop having conversations like that in the shower. It is royally distracting.

Betty squeezes some shampoo into her hand before she scoffs.

“My mom coming here and taking over my apartment, while my sister tries to keep my niece and nephew from driving everyone insane and my dad just sitting there, wishing he was somewhere quieter? It’s going to be exhausting Jug, I just know it. Lower your head a little.”

He obeys and closes his eyes to enjoy the feeling of Betty nails scratching against his sculp.

“Maybe we could do it here. At my place?” he suggests and lifts his head again. “Put everyone on neutral ground?”

Betty’s face lights up.

“You would do that?”

“If it keeps you and your mum from murdering each other.”

She swats his chest and gives him a light push to get him to take a step back, so they both can stand under the water. “It’s not funny, Juggie. The Coopers are not easy to handle.”

“You only say that, because you haven’t seen all the Joneses together at once.”

At that, she laughs and leans into him. Jughead wraps his arms around her and drops a kiss to her head. “It will be fine, I promise. Your mum can take over the whole apartment if she wants and if it all gets too much, we just take Hotdog and go for a walk.”

“The twins would love Hotdog.” Betty admits.

“See. And you said they arrive on Monday, right? I don’t have a game during the week in late November, so we can show them around London and on Thursday we’ll do Thanksgiving. Imagine, you’ll be working the whole day and then you’ll come home to a feast. The next day, they’ll be leaving. Before you know it, they’ll all be back in the States. We’ll make it through.”

“Yeah.” Betty hums and lifts her head to peck his lips. “Yeah, we will.”

…

They pick up Alice, Polly, Hal and the twins on a grey Monday morning, three days before Thanksgiving is supposed to take place. Hal seems nice, although a little quiet, which Jughead figures anyone that is married to a woman like Alice Cooper would be. Until now his interactions with her have been limited to that one FaceTime call a few weeks ago, but it takes him about 10 seconds to understand, why Betty and her mom need a safety distance of at least one ocean between them. They might be mother and daughter, but they couldn’t be more different. For every part of Betty that is sweet, there is a part of Alice that is icy. She also seems to have an incredibly annoying habit of complaining, something that tends to drive Jughead insane. He’s learned early on that complaining won’t get you anywhere and as a result of that, he can’t stand people that seem to open their mouth to only do just that. The airport is too dirty, Betty’s car is too small for them all, London is too cloudy.

There is an underlying vibe Jughead gets from Alice though, that almost makes up for the complaining. Beneath all the posh behavior and perfectly plugged eyebrows, there is still the girl from the wrong part of town. The one that fought to get out, maybe not the way she should have, but with the weapons that were available. He can’t help but respect that.

He also thinks that Alice has some sort of respect for him. It’s in the way she shakes his hand, in the way she makes an effort to pronounce his name without a pause in between the two syllables now.

Jughead really likes Polly and the twins. Polly has the same warm smile Betty has and the twins warm up to him about an hour after they pick them up at the airport. Juniper is a burst of energy, engaging in a constant game of catch with him as soon as they set a foot into Kensington Park. Dagwood on the other hand is whip smart, carrying a book everywhere he goes and has an aura about him, that Jughead hasn’t seen in too many seven-year-olds. They both love Hotdog, a love that is mutual. Jughead is ridiculously smitten by them.

They spend Tuesday and Wednesday exploring London with Betty’s family whenever their schedule allows and by Wednesday night, when Betty and him crawl into his bed after dinner at a restaurant that even Alice couldn’t find fault in and made Jughead realize that he might have money now, but still really doesn’t like rich people, Betty whispers:

“This is going scarily well. I really hope the other shoe won’t drop tomorrow.”

Jughead pulls her closer into his side and drops a kiss onto her forehead. “Don’t worry, it won’t. I know it is a shitty compromise, but here your mom can do whatever she wants and take control of things, instead of spending the day criticizing your choices in interior design, or your cooking. I mean of course she shouldn’t do that in the first place but it is a small victory if it keeps you sane this week.”

Betty is quiet for a while, then she mumbles. “Juggie?”

“Mhh?”

“Thank you.”

“What for?”

She sits up abruptly at that, and turns around to him, a disbelieving look in her eyes. “You are kidding right? ALL this. Putting up with my family. Entertaining Juniper and Dagwood all day long. Taking care of me and doing all this, just to keep me sane.”

“Isn’t that kind of self-evident? I mean you do so many things for me, you put up with all the press trouble and the fact that I’m traveling for what feels like 300 days a year. Helping you making it through your family visiting is the least I can do.”

Betty still looks at him, shaking her head a little. Jughead is almost getting a little anxious that he might have said something wrong, but then she launches forward and kisses him in a way that makes his head spin.

“How do I deserve you?” she whispers against his lips, when they come back up for air and he pulls her against him, back onto the mattress.

“Because you deserve everything Betty.”

…

For all the faults Alice Cooper has, Jughead must admit, that she is a formidable cook. No actually, that would be a lie. She is an amazing cook. He is pretty sure he has never seen a more elaborate Thanksgiving dinner than the one Alice produces in his barely used kitchen. And it is delicious. All of it. From the turkey to the mashed potatoes, everything tastes like heaven. He has to considerably hold back to not start stuffing everything into his mouth at once like a caveman.

After dinner, he is pretty thankful for the fact that the whole thing took place at his apartment, because he has no desire to move more than the way from the kitchen to the living room and/or the bedroom. But when he sees Alice returning to the kitchen, intending on doing the dishes after she’d cooked all day, he can’t help but follow her. She is just opening the tap when he enters.

“It’s okay Mrs. Cooper, you’ve already cooked the whole dinner, let me do the dishes.”

Alice turns around, arms crossed, clearly ready to put up a fight about this. Jughead sighs inwardly.

“You want to clean all that by yourself?” Alice says and gestures towards the mountain of plates, silverware and pans next to his kitchen sink.

“Really Mrs. Cooper, its fine. I’ve cleaned a dish or two in my life and you did enough today.” he insists. 

Alice’s eyebrow shoots up and Jughead realizes that he is clearly on the loosing street with this one. But then Alice’s shoulders relax, and she says:

“Well, lets make it a compromise. You know where most of these things go better than me anyway, so you take this.” she hands him a dish towel. “and I’ll do the washing. Deal?”

“Deal.” Jugheads answers and takes the dish towel. “And thank you again Mrs. Cooper. I haven’t had a Thanksgiving dinner like this in… well never.”

Alice scoffs: “Its nothing really. And I think you earned Alice by now.”

Jughead almost drops the plate he is drying and stares at Alice. He probably looks pretty stupid, but of all the things he had expected out of Betty’s family visiting, getting on first name basis with her mother definitely wasn’t one of them.

“Did I?” he asks, dumbfounded.

“Good lord and I thought you were one of the bright ones. Of course, you did. I’ve seen the way you treat my daughter over the last few days. Betty and I might not have the most prefect mother-daughter-relationship, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to see my daughter happy. And she clearly is with you. More than I’ve ever seen her.”

“I’m…” Jughead doesn’t really know what to answer but Alice silences him with a movement of her hand.

“Shush now and dry these dishes.”


	13. Chapter 13

“Riiiiiiiing.”

The sound of the doorbell snaps Betty out of her dreams. She groans and blindly strikes out towards Jughead next to her. Her flat hand collides with the skin of his chest and he grunts.

“Riiiiiiiing.”

“Jug, the door.” Betty mumbles and hits his chest again.

He lets out a protesting groan. “Stop hitting me, I can hear it.”

Despite that, he doesn’t make any effort to move, but instead inches closer to her, throws an arm over her waist and buries his face into her hair.

“Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing.”

“Sounds like it is important.” Betty yawns and follows his example by burying her face into his chest. She can feel him shaking his head while tightening his grip around her.

“No. I refuse. We have only five days until you go home for Christmas and I planned sleeping in on every single one of them. I don’t care if Jesus himself is out there, trying to invite us for his birthday party, I won’t get up.”

Betty hums in agreement. Their plan for the next five days is simple. They are both off for longer than two days for the first time since they got together, and they were planning on making those five days completely theirs. Nothing but them, christmas cookies and movies, visiting some obligatory Christmas attractions London offers like Winter Wonderland, the Arsenal Christmas Party Jughead (to no avail) tried to get out of and a lot of cuddling. She is pretty satisfied with those plans and like Jughead she’d prefer no one to interfere with them.

“Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing.” The ringing seems almost impatient now.

“Christ.” Jughead mumbles. “What on earth could be this important at” he turns around to his alarm clock. “freaking 7:30 in the morning?”

“Whatever it is” Betty answers, sits up and stretches her arms towards the ceiling. “It seems like you have to get on some cloth and tend to it.”

Jughead sighs while leaning over the edge of the bed to grab for a pair of sweats that had been discarded rather rapidly the night before. He slips into them and then dramatically falls back onto the bed.

“Once. Just once, I want to spend a day with you without someone calling or showing up unannounced, or one of our jobs getting in the way.”

Betty laughs and bends down to kiss him.

“Maybe we still can. With a little luck it is just a very insistent postman.”

“Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing.”

“Well, if its that, he definitely takes his job too seriously.”

Betty pecks his lips again and gives him a little shove. He gets up with another groan and slowly trudges out into the hallway. She watches after him until he leaves the room and then starts searching for her own cloth. They are probably not going to get back to sleep anyway, so she might as well get up and start making coffee.

She leaves the bedroom just in time to hear Jughead choke out a surprised: “Mom?”

Betty stops in her tracks and turns towards the door. And without a doubt, there she is, in all her glory: Gladys Jones.

Betty has met her a few times over FaceTime now, as well as his little sister Jellybean (which, she now realizes, is standing just behind her mother) and she likes Gladys. She reminds her of Tessa. All no-nonsense attitude with a soft core. Plus, Jughead had told her a lot of stories about his mom, about how she’d fought her way through hell and back to provide for him and his sister after they left the trailer park. And don’t even get her started on Jellybean. She is probably the smartest teenager Betty has ever met and the only person in the world that beats Jughead in sarcasm. So yes, Betty was actually looking forward to meeting Gladys and Jellybean. She’d just imagined it wouldn’t happen when she was still in her pyjamas, barely awake and sporting a very prominent hickey on her neck (she really needs to talk to Jughead about that.).

“Surprise.” Gladys smiles, hugs Jughead and then pushes past him into the apartment. “We thought, we could finally make the trip for Christmas in London this year.”

“Uhm. Alright.” Jughead says, while hugging his sister tightly. “That is amazing, but uhm, I could have done with a warning. At least once you had landed in Heathrow.”

“Its funnier seeing your dumbfounded face.” Jellybean laughs and nudges him with her elbow. “And this way, we also get to finally meet Betty.”

“Exactly” Gladys exclaims and leaves her suitcase by the door to take a few determined steps towards Betty, who is still staring at them all from the other end of the corridor. Before she knows it, Jughead’s mom has enveloped her in a hug that she has just enough time to return before Gladys pulls back, puts her hands on both her shoulders and says: “How are you doing sweetheart? As much of a beauty in real life, as you are on that screen.”

Betty can feel herself blush. “Thank you, Mrs. Jones.”

“Ah, no. Nothing of that. First of all, I haven’t been Mrs. Jones for a long time now and secondly I think you’ve known me long enough to call me Gladys.”

Jellybean has come down the corridor too by now, leaving a still slightly dumbfounded Jughead by the door and giving Betty another hug.

“Its great to finally meet you in person, Betty.” she says and sounds so excited that it makes Betty’s smile grow even wider.

“It’s good to meet you too, JB. This really is a nice surprise.”

“And the surprises aren’t over yet.” another voice that Betty doesn’t recognize says from behind Jughead. Her boyfriend wheels around on the spot towards a widely grinning, small man. He is about their age, with black hair, friendly eyes and caramel skin.

“You are kidding me?” Jughead manages to stammer out, before him and the other man almost collapse into each other in an enthusiastic hug.

“Fangs Fogarty.” Jughead mumbles. “God, how long has it been?”

“Ever since we moved back to Mexico.” Fangs answers.

“What are you doing here? What about your family? Oh my god, please tell me they didn’t…”

The smile on Fang’s face disappears and Betty feels a pang in her chest. She has an inkling as to where this is going.

“They did. I finally came out to them about two months ago. They didn’t exactly take it well, so I packed all my stuff and returned to Toledo. Your mom took me in. I’m figuring things out right now, but I couldn’t pass on this opportunity to finally see you again. It’s been almost 10 years.”

“I know. God, Fangs why didn’t you…”

Fangs shushes him with a wave of his hand and shakes his head: “Don’t Jug. It’s okay, really, there is no need to talk about it. It happened and I’ll have to deal with it. With time, there will be a solution. But” he says and claps his hands. “What I’m actually here for is to finally meet the girl that won the heart of the Serpent Prince.”

“Serpent Prince?” Betty crooks an eyebrow at Jughead who rubs his neck a little awkwardly.

“Yeah, do you remember how I told you, that if my it had been for my dad, I would have been part of his old gang too? He was their ‘king’, so by default is was the ‘prince’.”

“That sounds like very bad writing for a TV-Show.” Betty says and now takes the few steps toward the door, to shake Fang’s hand. “Betty Cooper. The girl that won the heart.”

“Fangs Fogarty. Childhood best friend.”

“Do I want to know where the name comes from?”

“You’d probably call it bad writing too.”

“Well, how about breakfast for everyone first then?”

…

About an hour later, Betty nearly spits all her orange juice over the counter top of Jughead's kitchen in a laugh flash, while Fangs tells her stories that she thinks are increidbly indearing, but make Jughead look like he wants the ground to swallow him.

"You really were a weird kid." she degrees and turns around to him, a teasing smile on her face.

He shrugs and tries to be nonchalant about it. "I told you, you never believed me."

"But, for a weird as he was, he also saved me from permanent head damage once." Fangs says and Jughead rolls his eyes.

"He is exaggerating. I didn't."

"You DID." Fangs says firmly. "It was also how he got discovered, did he ever tell you that story?"

"No, actually he didn't." Betty leans forward eagerly.

"Its a good story, you should have really told her Jug."

Jughead throws his hands in the air. "It hasn't really come up and you are horribly exaggerating right now, it was no big deal."

"It definitely was. Do you wanna hear it Betty?”

"Of course I do."

"Alright, picture that. One of the first warm spring days in Toledo. Jughead and me are twelve years old and spending our lunch break on the edge of the soccer field. He had his nose in a book, like always, I was more occupied with my sandwich then with my surroudings. Then, one of the guys on field hits the ball wrong at it goes flying off, right in my direction. Imagine the damage it could have done to this handsome face. But right before the ball was going to hit my face, Jughead's arm shot out and he blocked it. Coach Johnson, who was just passing by saw that and three days later, Jughead was on the team. The rest is history."

"Okay, good, now that the story is over, can we please stop laying open every embarrasing detail of my pre-teen years and get going before my mom decides she also has some stories?"

"But I like to hear those too!" Betty grins and wraps both arms around his waist from the side.

"Believe me you don't." Jellybean pipes up from her place at the kitchen table. "They are all boring, because first of all, she tells them wrong and secondly, Jughead was just really boring."

"Very helpful JB, thank you."

"Only for you, big brother."

...

The Arsenal Christmas Party is a black-tie event and the first time, Betty sees Jughead in a suit. She is in his bedroom, just changing into her dress, when he leaves the bathroom and Betty nearly forgets to how to breath when she sees him.

“Wow.” she blurts out and a bemused smile flickers over Jughead's face.

“Wow, what?” he asks and Betty steps towards him, grabbing the lapels of his jacket to pull him closer.

“You look very handsome in this.” she mumbles, and he smiles a little insecurely.

“You think? I always feel a bit like I’m in a disguise.”

“Don’t be stupid, you look great.” Betty says and stands on her tiptoes. “Maybe even a little bit too great. I don’t know if I can let you leave the apartment like this.”

“I could say the same thing about you.” Jughead grins and carresses the fabric that runs along her hips. “This looks incredible.”

“I mean, we could always just stay here.”

“I’m afraid we can’t. My mom and Jellybean are waiting for us outside and the whole thing is kind of obligatory. We have to show up there for at least an hour or two.”

“Such a pity.” Betty murmurs. “Maybe it will nice?”

“Well, almost all my favorite people will be there, so it probably won’t be that bad.”

…

And it actually isn’t. The room is decorated amazingly, the food is great, and Betty finally gets to meet Ed, his wife Fiona and Annie in person. At first, she is a little bit intimidated by Annie, but once they get talking, she notices that they have a lot in common and she almost forgets about the jampacked room around her.

Despite that she always keeps an eye on Jughead. She knows that he doesn’t like this kind of events, that they exhaust him. They both had agreed that they probably wouldn't stay too long. And because she keeps surveying the room for him, to see if he is still okay, she is also the first one to see the waiter with the full tray of champagne glasses trip behind Jughead.

“Jug.” she almost yells, but she can’t stop it. All the content of the glasses spills over Jughead’s suit and his whole body goes rigid within seconds. He stands, frozen to his spot and Betty can feel her stomach sink. Of all the things she learned to recognize during therapy, panic attacks are the most familiar to her.

Within seconds, she is in front of him, cradling his face in her hands.

“Juggie, its fine. It’s okay.” she whispers, praying to all the gods that she sounds somewhat soothing.

Gladys and Jellybean materialize next to her from out of nowhere.

“You and Jelly get him out of here.” Gladys hisses and only now Betty realizes that most of the room has gone quiet and is staring at them. “I’ll get the car.”

“Okay, yes, yes, that is probably the best idea.” Betty answers, trying her best to keep her own panic out of her voice and taking both of Jughead’s hand in hers. He is breathing heavily and his eyes are staring right through all of them. “Juggie, come on, lets get out of here.”

“It’s the smell.” Jellybean says next to her, while they usher Jughead out of the room. “We need to get him out of this suit.”

They maneuver Jughead towards the lobby, where they sit him down on one of the chairs. From the corner of her eye, Betty can see Jellybean covering her nose with her hand.

“JB, you okay?” she asks.

Jellybean’s eyes flicker in between her and the still hyperventilating Jughead, then she shakes her head. She is clearly torn between taking care of her brother and keeping her own bad memories at bay.

“I’m so sorry, I just... that smell, I can’t.”

“It’s okay. Go with your mom to get the car. We’ll be fine.”

Jellybean nods and turns around on the spot.

Betty meanwhile kneels in front of Jughead, taking his face into her hands again, trying to get him to look at her. She wants to help him so badly, she wants to get him through this, but she doesn’t know how, and it is killing her. She still tries.

“Juggie, Juggie hey, listen to me. It’s going to be okay. We are going to get you home now, alright? We’ll get you out of this suit and into the shower and it will go away, I swear it will all go away. I’m here, I’m with you and I love you and…”

His head snaps up and he stares at her, his eyes suddenly refocused. “What did you say?”

Only now Betty realizes what she just said. And that she meant it. She meant it with every single fibre of her being.

“I said that I love you.” she repeats firmly. “I love you Jughead Jones.”

He launches forward at that, kissing her with abandon. The world goes quiet for a moment and she isn't sure, how much time passes until Jughead whispers:

“I love you too, Betty. God, I love you so so much.”

…

Betty looks up from her phone, when she hears the bathroom door close. She had been updating Ed on everything, but now she switches the phone off and looks at Jughead who is standing at the end of the bed, hair still wet, but finally out of the suit and in the shirt and sweatpants she knows are his favorite.

“Feeling better?” she asks softly, and he nods, slowly walking over and joining her on the bed. For a moment, they just look at each other, then Betty opens her arms and says: “C’mere.”

Jughead lays down and puts his head into her lap. She starts carding her hand through his hair and for a while there is nothing but silence in the room. Then Jughead suddenly whispers:

“I’m so sorry.”

Betty freezes in her movements.

“What?”

“I’m sorry about all this. The smell, it just… it all came back and I couldn’t control it. Every single night I heard them fight. Every time I had to calm JB down. All those mornings when we had to tiptoe around him on the couch and he smelled like that. Every single time I looked at him and all I felt was disgusted. It was all there. All at once. And then I just... everything blacked out. And the worst about all of it is, that, god, Betty, you have no idea, how long I wanted to tell you that I love you, and I’m so sorry that it was under these circumstances. I've been searching for a way to say it for weeks, but I just couldn't find the words and now it happened like this and you deserve so much more than that, you…”

“Jughead” Betty interrupts him firmly. “Stop it. Don’t you dare apologize for this. Nothing about this is your fault. This whole thing, the panic attack, everything that happened tonight, is part of you. I told you this months ago and it is even more true now. I’m in on this, all of it. Every single part of you. Every single part of this. The good and the bad. And yes, we could have the typical, all romantic I love you’s, but I don’t want that. I want it just the way it is. And nothing is ever going to change that.”

He shifts to look up at her and suddenly she can see tears in his eyes. For a moment she is terrified, scared that she might have said something wrong.

But then he lifts his hand, strokes her cheek and says: “You don’t have the slightest idea how much that means to me. This is everything Betty.”

“I know. I know this is everything, because I feel the exact same way about you Jug. This, being there for you when things get complicated, its self-evident. I’m here for you. And nothing is ever going to change that. So please, please don't apologize for anything that happend tonight, okay?"

He swallows, his hand still on her face, his eyes wide and filled with so much love that it makes Betty's heart sing.

"Okay."


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we are my loves, the last chapter. I'm very thankful to you all for receiving this story the way you did and I'm so happy that you enjoyed reading my little fluff fest, although it considerably lacked drama. There will be any epilogue, and probably a coda, because I'm not yet ready to let go of this universe ;). So again, thank you all so much for your comments and kudos and support and whatnot. Believe me, it is more than appreciated.

There is a perception among most people that the older you get; the faster time passes. Jughead finds himself partly agreeing with that. A year is not a year anymore in the way it was when he was a kid. Back then, things that were supposed to happen in a month’s time seemed to be half an eternity away. Now, a month passes before he can even do as much as blink.

The last two weeks though… Well, let’s say, they felt more like five. From the minute, Betty has left for Christmas with her family in the States, every clock has been mocking him, every day seems to pass by at an infuriatingly slow pace.

Sure, spending Christmas at his Dad’s with his (whole) family and Fangs had been incredibly fun. It’s been a while, since all of them had come together for a holiday and its been probably the first one that Jughead remembers that went by without anyone fighting. He’d had the chance to spend time with his sister, catch up with Fangs and eat more food that even he should, but nonetheless there had always been this little knot in is stomach. This hollow feeling that something was missing, that someone else should be here. That all he did was only half as fun if he didn’t get to crawl under the covers with Betty at night and tell her all about it.

He knows that they should to be used to this by now. That all of this is nothing new, that thanks to his job, there had already been some extended periods of time when they had been apart. It should be no big deal.

But this? Two full weeks in a row? It’s torture. And although he tries his best not to make it too obvious, people around him do notice. Well, to be honest, only one person notices and he really shouldn’t be surprised when, late on Christmas Eve, while they are tiptoeing back into the living room (something that makes him feel incredibly giddy in the best kind of way) to put their parent’s christmas presents under the tree, Jellybean suddenly says:

“Does Betty know how incredibly gone you are for her?”

Jughead can feel a blush creeping up his face that he knows his sister can see, despite the sparse light the Christmas tree decoration casts through the living room.

A grin spreads across Jellybean’s face: “Wow, I never thought I’d live long enough to see my big brother blush.”

She flops down on the sofa and after a moment of contemplation if he really wants to have a late-night conversation about Betty with his little sister, Jughead sighs and sits down next to her.

There is nothing for a moment, then Jellybean says:

“She is good for you, you know. Seriously, I’ve never seen you light up the way you do when she is around. It’s almost disgustingly cute.”

Jughead can feel the corners of his lips curl into a smile. “She is special, there is no doubt about that. And yeah, she probably knows I’m crazy about her, given that she told me she loves me the other day. And I said it back.”

“Wait what?” Jellybean sits up straight, leaning forward eagerly. “When did that happen? Seriously Jug, not telling me this kind of things is pretty rude. I’m your sister after all.”

A small laugh escapes Jughead’s lips. “It was the same night as the Christmas party. We all were pretty caught up in everything else that happened that night, so telling you might have slipped my mind. I suppose we all had to sort through our own stuff.”

“Huh.” Jellybean deflates and sinks back into the couch. “Yeah, I think so.”

There is another beat of silence, then she adds: “Do you think it will ever go away?”

“What do you mean?”

“All of it. The memories, that dreadful feeling every time someone with a beer can in the hand passes by. I mean, I don’t… I don’t think I ever want it to go fully away. I think staying away from all of it has more benefits than disadvantages, but you know, it would be nice to not feel like the air is being squeezed out of my lungs, every time I have to pass the liquor isle in a super market.”

Jughead thinks for a while then he says: “Maybe. But meanwhile we will just have to learn how to deal with it. All of it. All the painful memories, no matter what they are related to, or what caused them. And hey, look how far we’ve come already. Who would have thought that a fight free Jones Christmas was possible?”

Jellybean laughs and tugs her feet under herself. “I never thanked you for that, you know. All those nights, when they’d fight and I was scared to death and you’d be there trying to calm me, telling me all these stories you’d made up out of thin air. If it wasn’t for you Jug, I probably would have come out even more messed up.”

“Jelly…” Jughead’s voice breaks when he tries to answer, tries to tell her that she is not messed up. That trying to calm her was just as much trying to calm himself in that moment and that he’d do it all again in a heartbeat, if he had too. He can feel tears pricking at the corner of his eyes and tries to blink them away furiously, but when he looks over at his sister, he finds her eyes to be glassy too. She whips over them with the sleeve of her pyjamas rapidly and says:

“These goddamn holidays always make me emotional.”

They both laugh at that a little shakily, then Jughead gets up from the couch and gesticulates towards the kitchen. “Come on, lets see if we can get our hands on some of the Christmas cookies mom didn’t burn.”

…

He returns to London on Boxing Day, for four training sessions in between the years. If he is being honest, he doesn’t deem them too necessary, but the coach is of a different opinion and if he wants to keep his spot on the team, he has to obey.

The only (and biggest advantage) to that is though, that he can pick up Betty from the airport and get a whole glorious night alone with her, before they drive back to Shoreham by Sea for New Year’s with his family.

Her plane arrives late on the 30th and he is standing in arrivals at Heathrow, beanie pulled deep into his face, praying that all the paparazzi are on holiday too. After the first initial shock a few months ago, the whole thing had calmed down considerably, but some pictures had shown up here and there, for example after they went to the food festival on his birthday. By now, Jughead is pretty sure, he is more fazed by it then Betty is. She has the marvelous ability of just ignoring the hell out of it, a skill he has never been able to fully achieve.

Which is why he would prefer to keep his reunion with Betty away from the gossip rags. The last two weeks had been exhausting, he has MISSED her, and he wants this moment to be theirs, no matter how ridiculous that sounds.

Her plane arrives right on time and he keeps shifting from one foot to another, his gaze glued to where the passengers exit, continuously searching for a flash of blond hair.

(God, Jellybean was right. He is so incredibly gone.)

After what is probably just a few minutes, but feels like hours, he finally catches sight of her. She lifts her head, their eyes lock, and it takes everything he has to not immediately rush towards her. Instead he just quickens his steps and meets her halfway, hauling her into a hug and squeezing her against him so tightly that for a second, he is afraid he might be hurting her. But then, her arms wrap around him, she buries her face into his chest, and he can hear her mumble: “God, I missed you Juggie.”

He drops a kiss to her hair and wishes they could stay like that for the rest of forever, but there are people around and actually, he just wants to go home and be alone with her.

“Mine or yours?” he mumbles into her hair and she giggles, looking up to peck his lips before she answers.

“Yours.”

…

Jughead looks down at the longish parcel in his hands and turns it around thoughtfully. Technically him and Betty had already exchanged presents two weeks ago, but during the time she’d been away, an idea had formed in his head and he figures that it is worth a try.

So, he gets up from the bed and silently opens the door to the bathroom. Betty is standing in front of the mirror, applying facial cream, hair still damp. Jughead tries not to get distracted by the thought about what is beneath the thin, white fabric of the bath robe she is wearing and wraps one arm around her waist, holding the parcel up in front of her.

“I have something for you.” he mumbles into her neck and breathes a kiss there.

“Juggie, you already gave me a present.” she protests, turns around and slings her arms around his neck.

“It’s not a present. More of a suggestion.” Jughead answers and holds the parcel up in between them again.

“Okay, now you’ve made me curious.” Betty laughs and finally takes the parcel from his hands. He watches nervously, while she carefully unwraps the bow and takes the lid off. Her gaze flicks in between Jughead and the content of the parcel, then another radiant smile spreads across her face and Jughead lets out a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding. She puts the parcel down on the sink behind her, carefully lifting up the small key inside it.

“You want me to move in with you?” she asks, her eyes shining when Jughead nods.

“I mean, I know we’ve only been together for four months and if it’s moving too fast, that is okay, but Betty, these last two weeks without you were hell. And I just realized that I want to come home to you every night, I want to wake up with you every morning. I want to huddle up on the couch together when its rainy and cold outside. I want Hotdog and Caramel running around. I want every possible minute with you and…”

Betty cuts him off with a swift kiss. She pulls back after a few too short seconds and breaths: “Of course, of course I want to move in with you Juggie.”

Before he can respond, she is kissing him again, longer this time, harder. Her tongue sweeps along his bottom lip and he tilts her head back gently to deepen the kiss. They kiss lazily for a few minutes, before Jughead tears his lips away from hers and starts trailing kisses down her neck. Above him, Betty lets out a breathy moan, then he hears her whisper his name. He ignores it in favor of kissing along her collarbones, but she repeats his name more fiercely and he lifts his head again to look at her. Her pupils are blown wide, her cheeks are tinged in a slight pink and he can feel her heartbeat where her chest is pressed against his.

A beat passes, and then Betty says: “Take me to bed.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice.

…

It’s almost noon, when they leave his apartment (a little begrudgingly on his part, he is not going to lie) for the drive back down to Shoreham by Sea.

Jughead has spent his last three New Year’s down here with his dad, alternating between eating whatever they got their hands on and spending New Year’s Day lounging around on the couch arguing about why, for the life of him, Jughead can’t watch yet another Die Hard movie (he’s never understood why they are always on around Christmas. The sole fact that a movie’s story takes place on Christmas, really should not be decisive in if it is deemed a Christmas movie or not). And he’d loved it. There was something about standing on his dad’s terrace and watching the fireworks the rest of the town was shooting up into the sky. It got the 12-year-old inside him excited in a way, that his actual 12-year-old self never had the chance to and Jughead had enjoyed that.

This year is different though. With his mom, Jellybean, Fangs and Betty there, the house is a little more cramped and livelier than Jughead normally likes, but on the other hand, these are his favorite people in the world.

He spends most of the afternoon and early evening after they arrive in the kitchen with Betty, Fangs and Jellybean, working on a feast under Betty’s instructions. By 7 p.m. the living room table is creaking under the weight of all the food and the look in his dad’s eyes when he catches sight of it is worth all the potato peeling in the world. Around 9, after they finished eating and cleaning up, his dad suggests they all go to the same cliff Betty and him had visited for a picnic a few months earlier.

Jughead is on the verge of protesting, because honestly, he is feeling kind of sleepy after all the food he ate and it is disgustingly cold outside, but then he sees the way Betty’s eyes light up at the suggestion and oh well.

It takes another hour for everyone to get ready and bundled up enough to face the cold. They take the long route through town, passing by packed pubs that Jughead is very thankful he doesn’t have to been in. He locks eyes with Jellybean just for a moment and they simultaneously take a deep breath. A part of him tells him they are overreacting and being ridiculous, but then his mom wraps an arm around Jellybean and Betty squeezes his hand and the fact that they’ve noticed too, makes him feel calm in a way that lacks any description.

They reach the top of the cliff 10 minutes before midnight. The wind is blowing freezingly cold up here and Betty nuzzles close to him, her body fitting against his in a way he’ll probably never get used to, but he doesn’t want to either.

The sky erupts into colors around them at 12 a.m. on the dot but Jughead is almost too preoccupied with Betty’s lips on his to notice.

He pulls her into him again after hugging his family, wrapping his arms around her from behind. Her whole face is light by the fireworks and when she leans back into him, he forgets all about the cold. He just stands there, at the beginning of a new year, Betty in his arms, surrounded by his family and for the first time in his life, he doesn’t want anything to change in the year that is waiting for him.


	15. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here we are. I post this epilogue with a heavy heart, because I really loved writing this story. In my head it is still not done and I promise that there will be a coda. But for now, I thank you all for tagging along on the ride, for all the comments, your nice words and every kudos. It is greatly appreciated. A very special thanks to my Anne, you know why. Y por supuesto muchisimas gracias a ti, querida paru, sin ti esta historia no existeria.

He folds and unfolds the worn-out paper, turns it in his hands, then sighs and places it back onto the nightstand in his dad’s guest room. Jughead KNOWS the words on that piece of paper. He has been rehearsing them for weeks. He HAS written them. And still he feels like the moment he will see Betty tomorrow; he will forget all about them.

Well, he’ll probably forget about most of his surroundings, but that is the point of a wedding day he supposes. It’s about them, their love and not much else.

He looks over at Hotdog, who is peacefully snoozing on the bed next to him, oblivious to his owner’s nerves about the next day. Hotdog has grown old, blind on one eye and has nowhere near as much urge to run and break free as a few years ago. If Jughead let him off his leash now, around the same street corner he met Betty at, Hotdog would never run her over. They’d probably just pass each other, maybe not even noticing in the steady stream of London pedestrians. The thought alone makes him shiver.

He also can’t quite wrap his head around the fact that all of that happened eight full years ago. That it’s been eight years since he bought her that croissant and tea, eight years since he’d driven her to work, eight years since their first kiss.

They still live in Notting Hill. The apartment is bigger now and the cat strutting around is not named Caramel anymore but Nala. They had to put Caramel to sleep two years ago, something that had brought them both to tears. Even Hotdog had seemed a little confused the first few days after Caramel had been gone. But 6 months later, Nala had joined their little family and surprisingly, they’d gotten along just as good as Caramel and Hotdog had.

Other than that, they had settled into a comfortable routine, trying make as much time for each other as their respective careers allowed. Jughead’s schedule hasn’t changed much in the last few years. After all, football season, summer training camps and photoshoots for sponsors mostly stay the same. Betty though had meanwhile taken over from Tom and was now the Guardian’s chief editor for everything sports. That meant way more extra hours and sleepless nights that they both liked to admit, but Betty was thriving and Jughead was endlessly enjoying seeing her that way.

He’d been hiding the ring for almost a year until he’d finally worked up the courage to ask her to marry him. The whole thing had nearly blown up when she’d walked into their bedroom, while he was grabbing the ring from the back of his sock drawer, just sliding it into his jacket pocket, before they went for a walk with Hotdog. He thinks she had started to get a little suspicious by then, but she’d definitely known something was up, when he steered her off their normal round and towards the street corner they met at. After that, everything is just a blur of her saying yes, them trying not to cry too much in public and Hotdog jumping around them.

It had taken another two years to finally carve out enough time to actually plan the whole wedding and find a date everyone they wanted to be there, actually could attend, but they’d made it. And now, only 10 tiny little hours are separating him from marrying her and if Jughead is being honest, he has no idea what to do with himself.

He is too nervous to sleep, and too unfocused to read a book or watch something on television. Technically he could go for a walk on the beach, but he knows himself and he knows he would probably just end up going to the little B&B Betty is spending the night at and they are not supposed to see each other until tomorrow. He’d thought that to be a little old-fashioned, but Betty had insisted on it. Apparently, it added to the excitement. Jughead is pretty sure he couldn’t get any more excited about marrying her if he tried.

A knock at the door startles him from his thoughts. It’s almost midnight and he had been certain that he was the only one awake in the house.

“Yes?” he says reluctantly, and as the door creaks open slightly, first Ed’s head peaks around it, then Fang’s.

“Hi guys.” Jughead tries, still a little confused as to why his two best friends are standing in the doorway of his dad’s guestroom in the middle of the night.

“We just wanted to check on you. See if you hadn’t run yet.” Fangs answers his unspoken question, now entering the room fully and dropping down on the end of the bed. Ed follows his lead and looks at Jughead mischievously.

“Don’t you dare say it.” Jughead growls.

He knows he is not nearly as intimidating as he tries to be, because Ed just shrugs and says it anyway: “Last chance for a stag night. You really don’t want one?”

Jughead groans. They had been over this. Multiple times. He doesn’t need a stag night or a bachelor party. If Jughead is being honest he doesn’t even understand the concept of it. All the fuss about celebrating one’s “last night in freedom”. As if he was being forced to marry Betty and hadn’t specifically asked her to. Furthermore, his tolerance level for intoxicated people had only declined during the last few years, so he was not putting himself through the torture of having to spend a night in various pubs stacked with them. Not even mentioning the stupid T-Shirts.

He just snarls at Ed.

“Thank you, but no thank you. I prefer messing up my vows and bawling my eyes out without being sleep deprived from having to babysit you lot all night.”

It comes out a little harsher than he intended to, but Ed doesn’t seem to take offence to it and just asks another question: “Messing up your vows, huh? On a scale of 1 to 10, how nervous are you?”

“15 probably.” Jughead answers with a sigh and grabs the paper from his nightstand. “I’ve read them a billion times and I’m still certain I’ll forget them as soon as I see her tomorrow. God, I’m not even sure if they are any good.”

Fangs snorts and snatches the paper from his hand. “Yeah sure. As if you had ever written anything that wasn’t good.”

He unfolds the paper and lets his gaze flicker over it. Ed is peeking over his shoulder curiously and Jughead can see their facial expressions change as their eyes reach bottom of the page. Ed’s mouth has dropped open, Fangs eyes have filled with tears and Jughead is honestly feeling even more self-conscious about the whole thing.

But then Fangs whacks the paper against his the side of his head so quickly, that even he doesn’t have time to dodge it.

“Ow. Fangs what in god’s name…”

“You are a bloody idiot, you know that?” Ed exclaims. “You are going to make all other men in that church look like fools when you say that out loud. How is anyone ever going to live….”

“Seriously Jug.” Fangs interrupts. “I know you have a tendency for self-loathing, but you can’t tell me this isn’t any good. The whole church is going to bawl their eyes out.”

“You think?” Jughead asks and precautionally dugs at the look Fangs gives him.

“Do I have to whack you with the paper again? This is amazing Jug.”

“Okay good.” Jughead breaths out and snatches the paper sheet back. “And now go away, I should probably try to sleep at least a little.”

“Aye, aye sir.” Ed jokes and both, him and Fangs mockingly salute Jughead.

He rolls his eyes. “I can’t believe you are my best men.”

Fangs shrugs and makes his way back to the door. “Too late to change now.”

When the door closes behind them, Jughead looks over at Hotdog again, who is still sleeping, not having noted any of the fuss his friends had just made.

“Must be great to be that calm.” he thinks and turns off the bed sight lamp.

…

Her phone tells her it is 4 a.m. when Betty wakes for the third time that night. With a groan she puts it back on the nightstand and rolls onto her back. There are about 2 hours left until she has to get up and ready and she knows she should use those two hours for sleep. Because as for now, she has gotten a whooping 4 hours in.

She stares up at the dark ceiling for a while, wondering if she would sleep easier if Jughead was here. Technically she’s been the one that had insisted on them spending the night before the wedding apart, but now she is regretting it. His arms around her, his even breathing in her ear, the constant warmth radiating off his body… it would all probably help her to get a better night’s rest.

Betty heaves another sigh and grabs her phone again. Her thumb hovers over the WhatsApp symbol for a moment as she contemplates sending him a message. Sure, he is probably asleep, but it is worth a try, isn’t it? And technically, she doesn’t see him, so that is okay too, right?

**_I can’t sleep, I’m too nervous._** she tries and places the phone back on the nightstand. The screen lights up no 30 seconds later with his answer.

_Me neither. I keep rereading my vows. If I mess them up tomorrow, it’s the sleep deprivation._

Betty laughs at that, sits up and leans against the headboard of the bed.

** _That’s fine. As long as you’ll be there._ **

_Come hell or high water, nothing is going to stop me from marrying you Betty Cooper._

Her lips twitch up into a smile. He is always so sweet with her.

_Furthermore, I can’t risk not seeing how incredibly gorgeous you are going to look in that dress you’ve been teasing me about for 4 months._

Betty bites her lip and glances over to the corner of her room, where her dress is suspended on a hanger. It had been love at first sight. A simple A-Line cut, with some lace from the middle up to the straps and a V-neck, that might be a little risky for the chapel they are going to marry in, but oh well. Its her wedding day and she has decided she is allowed to do that. She might have also bought it because she knows it is going to drive Jughead insane in the best kind of ways.

** _Oh, you are definitely not going to want to miss out on that _ ** ** _😉_ ** ** _._ **

_Urgh, will I have to fight off the whole male population of Shoreside by Sea tomorrow?_

** _Of course, its kind of a tradition here. Didn’t your Dad tell you?_ **

_Damn it, I knew I should have taken those boxing lessons. Well, too late now. _

** _I’m still going to marry you, even without the boxing knowhow, I promise._ **

_Phew. Thank god._

There is a little pause after that message, but Betty can see that he is still typing.

_But all jokes aside, I can’t wait for you to be my wife._

…

Jughead is still nervous. Its even worse now that he is standing in the front of the small chapel him and Betty had found just a few miles west of Shoreham by Sea. His dad gives him a reassuring nod from the first row when he catches his eye and even Alice flashes him a smile that he thinks is supposed to say: “Calm down. She’ll be here any second.”

He knows that he is being ridiculous. He knows that she will be here, he just talked to her a few hours ago. But even after all these years he is still unlearning to not listen to this little voice in the back of his head that tells him that all of this can’t be real. That life doesn’t have a happy ending, that it never turns out this way for people like him. Taking another deep breath, he tries to shove that voice far into the back of his mind and hopes that as soon as he sees her, he’ll forget about everything anyway. Including that nagging voice.

And then, roughly 5 minutes later, she appears at the heavy wooden door flanked by her father and Jughead forgets how to breath. She is LUMINOUS. Even more beautiful that he could have ever imagined. All over sudden, he gets all the fuss and he understands what all the other people meant when they said they’ll never forget their wedding day. He’ll certainly never forget this moment.

Betty looks at him all her way down the aisle, that exact same smile on her face she gives him every time they kiss. He knows that smile is only reserved for him and that fact alone drowns out everything, from the crowd to the music that is playing.

Jughead nearly forgets to look at Hal when him and Betty arrive at the front and only snaps out of his trance when his future father-in-law says: “I’d tell you to take care of my little girl, but we both know she can do that just fine herself.”

A quiet laugh escapes Jughead’s lips at that and from the corner of his eye he can see that Betty is already holding back tears. They are both going to cry today, by now he is certain of that.

“Thank you.” he answers Hal and takes Betty’s hand to make the rest of the way to the altar together.

The ceremony starts and Jughead is sure he misses about half of what the priest is saying because he keeps staring at Betty. He just can’t take his eyes off her. From her hairdo, to her make-up, all the way down to her dress, she just looks like an absolute angel. She is always beautiful of course, but there is a special glow to her today. Maybe it’s the day, maybe it’s his own imagination running ramped, but god, she takes his breath away.

From time to time, Betty looks over at him with a smile, squeezing his hand which she hadn’t let go ever since he took it in front of the altar. Before he knows it, they reach the part of the ceremony when they get to say their vows and the moment he turns toward her, takes both her hands in his and looks into her eyes, it all breaks out of him. Everything he’s written down, everything he’s been so nervous to forget, its just there.

“Betty, it may seem such a typical thing to say, but honestly, there is a part of me that from right at the beginning, right at the moment we met, knew that this day was going to come. I only realized recently, that from the moment I told you my name and you didn’t laugh, that part of me knew that it was you or no one else. It may sound ridiculous, but right there, that was my first hint about how special you are. And ever since then, every single day, you’ve proven to me how right that part of me was to assume all that from the very beginning. Ever since then you’ve been there with your unwavering support. You've been my anchor, you've kept me steadfast right were I belong. By your side. I’ve always had this little voice inside my head, the one that told me that I don’t deserve good things, that they don’t happen to people like me. That love doesn’t happen to people like me. That with the fact that I got to make a career out of something I enjoy, I had maxed out all the luck I was allowed to have in this life. But then you appeared on that street corner and… call it god’s will, call it fate, but everything changed. It was like I was suddenly breathing easier, as if life had suddenly decided to give me the upper hand for once. There are no words in any language of this planet, that could describe what is like to have the privilege to wake up next to you every morning. To know that no matter how shitty my day has been, I get to come home to you, and it is going to be okay, just because you’ll be there, and you’ll listen. I could probably go on for hours about this, but I think what I’m really trying to say is that I’ve never been more excited about anything as much as I’m excited about sharing the rest of my life with you. Every single day, every hour, every minute, every second. Because I’ll need all those days just to give you back half of what you’ve given me in the last eight years. But believe me, I’ll be damned if I don’t try. Because you deserve everything Betty Cooper and I’ll spend to rest of my life trying to give it to you.”

He lets out a breath and only now he realizes that both, him and Betty are crying now. God, she hasn’t even started her vows yet.

Betty sniffles for a moment, the she wipes her eyes in the most graceful way Jughead has ever seen and takes a deep breath.

“Well, now I feel like I’ve come unprepared.” she says and the gathered crowd laughs. Jughead does too, albeit a little shakily. “Jug, I’ve have basically started writing these vows, the moment you proposed to me. And in the beginning, I really thought it would be easy. I’m a journalist, I write every day and now I get to write something that I’ll say to person I love most on this planet. It should be easy. But believe me, it wasn’t. Because, there are so many things, so many feelings that I would have to put into words, and I will never be able to do that. I will never be able to put into words how much better my life is, just because 8 years ago, I stumbled over a dog and that brought you into it. I will never be able to describe how the simple fact that I get to wake up next to you already makes the day worth it. Or how thankful I’m that thanks to having you in my life, I gained a whole new, second family. It frustrated me to no end, that I wasn’t able to find the words, that I couldn’t put it onto paper. And then, just two months back I had this incredibly hard day at work, the whole wedding planning was getting to me and in the evening, I was throwing this completely unnecessary fit at you. But you just… you didn’t get angry or anything, you were patient with me, you just knew that it wasn’t you, it was something else and in that moment I realized that actually, I didn’t need a whole lot of words to describe what you mean to me or what we are. I just need one word and that is: acceptance. You’ve accepted me for who I’m and you’ve taken it all in, without any hesitation. You’ve loved me unconditionally and that is something I’m eternally grateful for. The fact that you never questioned, the fact that you saw my airplane full of baggage, barely shrugged and went: “Worth it.” The last 8 years, without a doubt have been the happiest of my life and god, I just can’t wait to add the rest of my life to them. There were times when I was scared about the future, when everything felt uncertain, but now, thanks to you, I don’t think about it like that anymore. I don’t think too much about the future in any capacity, because the present, the time I have with you is so much better than anything I could ever come up with. In the end, I suppose I’m at a loss of words again, because honestly, I can, in no way describe the feeling I get when I think about the fact that I get to live this present for the rest of my life with you. And I’ll let the words fail me every day, if it means that I get that.”

Okay, now he is full on bawling his eyes out. Jughead tries to wipe at his eyes with the sleeve of his jacket, but it doesn’t work in the slightest. So, he just looks at Betty again, suddenly feeling an overwhelming urge to kiss her senseless right then and there. But he knows he can’t (yet) so he just leans forward a little and presses a kiss to her forehead.

The rest of the ceremony passes by in a blur and before he knows it, they are back outside, in front of the chapel, hand in hand and now officially Mr. and Mrs. Jones.

…

Jughead’s arms tighten around her waist from behind, as she watches over at the crowd that has formed on the dance floor. His lips brush along her jaw and she closes her eyes at the feeling.

“You think we can just leave?” her husband (_husband, husband, husband!_) murmurs into her ear. She is not going to lie; she is pretty tempted. But it is only 7:30 and she feels like leaving any earlier then 9 would be a little rude on their part. After all, all of these people where here for them.

She tells Jughead as much and he lets out groan, burying his face into the side of her neck. “That’s still an hour and a half away, Betts. I really just want you all to myself.”

In the end they compromise. They leave at 8:30 and no one thinks anything by it. Because that’s Jughead and Betty. 


End file.
